


A Life Half Lived

by what_about_the_fish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: deancasbigbang, Depiction of Injuries, Depression, Endverse!Cas, Friends to Lovers, Ghosts, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Second Chances, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-29 14:37:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8493694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_about_the_fish/pseuds/what_about_the_fish
Summary: Two men living life as if everyday could be their last.  One without fear and the other lived in trepidation.  They meet on the cold slab in a mortuary room.  As Dean prepares Castiel for his final journey, two souls realise how closely they have come to colliding in this life.  But what if they had a second chance.  Can one person’s actions change the fate of another?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! My first ever DCBB and first completed multi-chapter fic.  
> It's been a crazy journey, with so many road bumps, but I kept fighting and finally got here.  
> This story has been a kind of therapy for me, so it is very close to my heart. It has a lot of beauty and love, as well as some very dark themes.  
> Please heed the tags, and if you have any worries you can always drop me an ask on my [Tumblr](http://whataboutthefish.tumblr.com/) for potential trigger warnings. 
> 
> The art for this story was provided by the amazing [Deanicanfixthat](http://deanicanfixthat.tumblr.com/) who has created some fantastic pieces that really bring this story to life. Thank you so much!
> 
> I have so many people to thank for getting me this far. Team Lube Mouth for always having my back, all the people who have encouraged me to write and edit on twitter and tumblr, you all have been integral to making this happen.  
> The biggest thanks go to my two beta's who hammered this into some sort of readable and hopefully enjoyable sense!  
> [Wevyrdove](http://wevyrdove.tumblr.com/) and [Burning Wicker](http://burningwicker.tumblr.com/) <3<3
> 
> I made a playlist which I listened to while I wrote, if you want to listen it's on [Spotify](<iframe%20src=)
> 
>  
> 
> Finally I'd just like to thank everyone who reads this, and encourage you all to let me know what you think in the comments section. I still feel kinda new at all this so any words and thoughts would be welcome. I hope you enjoy!

_A body lay in the mortuary. A young man, someone’s son, or loved one._

Dean had arranged for the transfer that morning; all the papers having already been signed by the family sometime in the early hours. 

_Castiel James Novak._

The name on the paperwork stirred something in Dean which he had not felt in years. The familiarity stood out in his mind, shining a beam of light into the depths of his past. 

But as yet, nothing would take shape.

He approached the body, wrapped in the standard black body bag on the mortuary tray, with an apprehension he hadn’t experienced since he was a small child, sneaking down to the mortuary to watch his father work. 

Dean had seen more dead bodies in his life than most, and these butterflies should not have been present. However he was undeniably anxious, and with a deep exhale of a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, Dean slowly pulled down the zipper to reveal the person within.

Winchester & Sons Funeral Home had been in Dean’s family for generations, and in the small city of Lebanon it was the only family-run funeral home to service the community. The business was run from inside the Winchester family home, an imposing Victorian building over 100 years old set back on a large corner block. 

Dean and his family had lived amongst the dead in the back and upper levels of the house since the businesses conception in 1919. 

Death had been so entangled into every part of Dean’s life for as long as he could remember that he should be used to this by now, it should be as normal as breathing air, except this time it was so very different.

\----------------

The Novak family were to arrive at eleven o’clock to discuss the funeral arrangements. This was a part of the business Dean had never taken to.

There were many in the undertaker community who saw their role in the bereavement of families and loved ones to be integral in the grief healing process. There was an element of counseling, and a sympathetic touch was needed to make the transition and decisions as pain-free as possible. 

Spending an entire lifetime around death had left Dean inured to these emotions. His demeanor could come off as cold and uncaring, but detachment was something that had become his greatest coping mechanism to this life that was thrust upon him. 

Today Dean was pushed to his very limits, that tentative line he usually balanced on had vanished and Dean found it much more difficult to get into the right headspace. He longed for someone else to be able to take on this more public role. However since his father passed away and his brother had fled to live out his own life, he was the only one left. 

The last Winchester standing; Dean remained to run the family business alone.

He had a mortuary assistant, Ash, who worked part time, he helped with moving the bodies and some of the more manual aspects of the job, but the _“upstairs stuff”_ as Ash referred to it- was solely Dean’s responsibility.

He glanced at the large grandfather clock in the hall that divided the home from the business; 10.30am, he’d have to hustle if he was going to be prepared for the bereaved.

Dean alighted the stairs taking them two at a time, and headed straight for his bedroom. He was a tall man, muscular but not large, and he craved the simple things in life like a well worn t-shirt, the smell of old books and warm apple pie. His suit, the uniform for these “upstairs” occasions was so far from his comfort zone that it didn’t matter if he bought off the rack or had it made to measure, the suits never seemed to feel right. When he was in one, he felt like a child in his father’s borrowed clothes rather than the man who would be comforting families in their bleakest moments.

A quick glance in the mirror on the upper-floor landing showed he was presentable, and as he dusted the lint off his shoulders he descended the stairs two at a time, making his way through the double doors that led from the private living area into the mourning room. His small yet functional office was off to the side, and it was there he gathered up the brochures and display books, which featured the myriad of coffins and styling available to the family. Belatedly, he scooped up the information pertaining to which style of body preservation they might prefer: embalming, open or closed coffin and options on both burial and cremation.

Dean had just finished laying out the information on the old oak coffee table that sat in the centre of five large wingbacked chairs, which unfortunately, gave the appearance of comfort but afforded the sitter none, when the bell chimed to announce the arrival of the family.

Straightening his jacket and quickly wiping the sheen of sweat that had appeared on his forehead with his handkerchief, Dean made his way to the front door to welcome the Novaks.

\----------------

“I want him interned in the family crypt, and that’s the last I’ll hear of it.” Naomi Novak, matriarch of the Novak clan claimed in a sharp stern tone.

The Novak family were clearly not on the same page, and Dean had found that there was little he could do, but nod and plaster his “condolence” face on, while offering the correct information to Mrs Novak, basically ignoring the others in attendance.

The rest of the family were all, in their own way, as fiery as Naomi, however none had the ability to put their foot down and leave it there like she did. Gabriel and Anna, both siblings of the deceased, had clearly known Castiel differently than his mother had. Their views portrayed the young man as one who would have hated all of the pomp and excess which Naomi seemed to demand. They were also very adamant that Cas, as they referred to him, would have wanted to be cremated in an eco coffin.

“Cardboard, Gabriel! _Who do you think we are_?” Gabriel looked as though he was about to answer, but Naomi forged ahead. “We are _Novaks_ and we have an image to uphold in the community!” A faint curse drifted from behind a cough, and Dean noted that Gabriel was covering his mouth. “Well you might as well have said we stick him in a garbage bag and throw him away! No, that simply _will not do._ ” Naomi’s cool demeanor was falling away to reveal a rather intolerant side.

“Spreading his ashes in Vietnam is hardly throwing him away, Mother. He told me himself, that trip was one of the best times of his life, surely you respect that?” Gabriel had countered.

But it was clear that Naomi Novak was not going to be moved. Dean could see the bulging vein in her forehead pulse as her children argued. He recognised this authoritarian display, and as hard as he tried, he couldn’t help the feeling that _he_ was the one in trouble.

By the end of the meeting Naomi had ordered the very best mahogany, lead lined, silk upholstered coffin. The body was to be embalmed for an open coffin ceremony here at the funeral home, and a full procession to the family crypt at Holy Cross Cemetery.

“There is just one last thing I’ll need from you, before you go.” Dean spoke with some hesitance, he’d seen many family disputes in this room before, in fact, he’d had to break up more than one fist fight in his time, but Naomi Novak had such an important air about her, Dean felt as though he were addressing a queen, or worse, the reincarnation of his father.

“I will need someone to bring along a set of clothing you would like your son to be buried in; at your earliest convenience.”

This of course, started off another string of arguments, words being spat out at one another like venom. Naomi insisted on a suit, whereas Anna described some kind of attire Dean could only guess to be something a hippie might wear.

“For God’s sake, Mother, he wouldn’t be seen dead in a suit!” Anna shouted as she stamped her foot, her face turning as red as her hair.

Gabriel, who had remained strangely silent through this last exchange, chose that moment to burst into laughter. He laughed so loud and long, his body doubled over, and tears streamed down his face. Dean even found it hard to not drop his stoic composure and fought the urge of a smile pulling at the sides of his mouth.

Naomi Novak looked mortified, she gathered her belongings and stormed out of the room and out of the house, while Anna, who had looked somewhat confused for a moment, joined her brother in a laugh of her own.

Several moments later, once Gabriel had composed himself, and they’d heard the blast of a car horn being blown with impatience, they both got ready to leave.

Letting his sister leave before him, Gabriel pulled Dean to the side and handed him a small photo.

“Look, I know Mother will get what she wants, but please, don’t make him look like someone he’s not, even in the monkey suit she’s gonna bring you. This is him, as he’d want to be remembered... as I want to remember him. If you can, please use this image for the makeup or whatever it is you do.” Gabriel’s gaze bored into him, the intensity of it for a moment brought back some of those strange stirrings from the earlier sense of deja vu. 

Had someone else not looked at him this way before?

Dean nodded, dropping his public, somber role for a moment when he uttered quietly “I’ll do my best.”

This appeared to appease Gabriel Novak, and with that he shook Dean’s hand and left the house, slipping inside a large black town-car, just before it sped away.

\----------------

Dean closed the door, the house settling around him, as though its walls felt as ruffled by the meeting as Dean did himself.

He returned back to his small office, picking up the brochures and other documents on his way through the mourning room. Once settled behind his desk, Dean finally looked down at the picture Gabriel Novak had handed him.

It was a tropical setting, a man- whom he supposed was Castiel- appeared to be about 18, stood on the steps of a ruined temple. The ancient structure was surrounded by a jungle struggling to reclaim it as its own. Castiel was mobbed by a crowd of small children, their dark shiny hair and sparkling dark eyes a sharp contrast to the huge white grins that each and every one of them wore on their young, cheeky faces. Some of the children were just gathered around to be included in the photo, however others were climbing Castiel like he was a tree, hanging from his arms and back. None of this seemed to affect the man, who’s bright gummy smile that he wore over his entire face shone almost as bright as the children's . His hair was a ruffled mess, dark at the roots with sunbleached ends... His eyes however- they bore through the photo, almost as if he were staring out at Dean from the inside of the picture. The blue that ringed his pupils sent a wave of shivers down Dean’s spine.

The need hit him suddenly as though struck by lightning, spurred him up out of his chair. He dashed from his office so fast he took the corner of the desk straight to the thigh which caused him to wince, the pain shot down his leg. Unperturbed by the mishap, Dean practically ran down to the mortuary.

_He had to see: the body, this man, those eyes._

The picture had done its part in dragging up those distant memories. Dean could feel the pull inside of him, the name Novak rang in his ears; the blue hazed his vision.

He stopped just inside the doors to the mortuary - gathered himself, collected his thoughts, and slowed his breath.

Dean moved slowly over to the mortuary refrigerator, slipping on gloves before his fingers hovered over the handle. With a deep breath, and a sense that after this moment nothing would ever be the same again, he opened the chrome latch.

The cold air hit his face, the usual shiver replaced with a strange and inexplicable feeling of suddenly not being alone.

Dean’s father had talked a lot about family before he passed away, how you could never be alone if you looked after one another. How family would always come first and would always be there for you; but Dean still felt alone, even within his family he was a lone wolf. His father found Dean’s introversion to be a flaw in his personality, a trait that could be willed out of him, if only he tried _harder_. His father would never see his forced smile and brittle eyes as conditioning, brow-beaten into him by the strong words of an unrelenting man who wanted nothing for his son but to follow in his footsteps. All of this had left Dean empty but he had never felt lonely, just alone. 

_In the end everybody left him._

Dean felt a sudden rush of awareness, a fluttering of understanding. It was like something he didn’t realise he’d missed, like filling a hole you didn’t know was there. 

Now, he was standing before a body encased in a black bag, in a room where his breath dusted the air with wisps of fog, and that empty part of him was drifting away, evaporating before him.

Working on autopilot, Dean pulled the gurney into the light. A shaky hand found the zipper and slowly pulled it down. The edges stayed in place, revealing nothing of what was contained within. The chill of the room forgotten, Dean opened the plastic, making way for the pale, naked body of Castiel Novak.

All the life of the picture in his office was gone, the body just a shell of what had been. Of course Dean didn’t know why he’d expected anything different, the skin was supple to touch, and dark patches of pooled blood painted the body where it touched the table.

The facial features had fallen lax, his vacant eyes had not been closed, and the opaque orbs stared blindly up.

Dean had to look away from the death gaze, unsettlingly wrong. This man was never meant to be viewed this way, he was meant for vibrancy and laughter.

The long deep gash along his left forearm was what finally took Dean’s breath away, as the last piece of the puzzle slotted itself into place in his mind. 

_He knew this man._

From afar, Dean had seen Castiel grow from a youth to a headstrong man. He’d known him only as Cas; the rich kid that went to the good schools. Their paths had crossed by the most feather light graze, yet the two had never collided head first. 

This man had been the talk of the town over the years, mischief and adventure followed him wherever he went.

And now, he was here, on the final adventure.

Taken by choice.

_Taken before his time._

\----------------

Dean removed Castiel’s body from the bag and transferred him to a tray. He went through the motions, attached the identification bands to each wrist and lifted his head to slide the head block beneath it. Finally he covered the body with a crisp white sheet.

As he slid the tray back into place, a whisper floated on the air, a simple statement, so removed from his own thoughts that Dean knew it was not his imagination.

“I remember you too.”

The lights flickered once, and when Dean turned to face the door he was confronted with the image of Castiel, not as a dead man, and not how he once was, his face ignited in that smile from the picture sitting in his office. Castiel stood before him with a look of pain etched on his brow, his hands hung loosely by his sides, Dean could see a slow stream of blood run down one palm, slip between the fingers and fall from his fingertips, the drops vanishing before they hit the floor.

Castiel’s melancholy image spoke. “My final adventure. I like that.” 

Dean was speechless, he could do nothing but stare. He wasn’t scared, on the contrary nothing about this moment felt wrong.

“You care about me,” Castiel said, confusion knitting his eyebrows. “Why?”

Dean gathered himself, his reply barely audible above the sound of his heart beating in his ears.

“You were always so alive.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dean stood frozen, unable to avert his gaze as a single opaque tear fell down the shimmering visage of Castiel’s face. Time stood still in the chilled room, Dean let out a deep breath that sent a cloud of fog floating into the air. The lights flickered once more and Castiel’s image disappeared, leaving only a mist of condensation where he had once stood.

Part of Dean was aware that what had just happened was not normal, that he should in fact be freaking out or at least scared. It wasn’t as if supernatural things were a regular occurrence. Dean could say- hand on heart- that he’d never seen a ghost in his life before. 

As the air cleared of misty dew, Dean’s heart rate (the only indication that he’d witnessed something so strange) returned to a normal pace.

He quickly walked away from the gurney and out the door, and disposed of his latex gloves once he heard the steel latch close firmly on the refrigerated room. It was almost end of business; the afternoon had disappeared. _How long had I been standing there?_ He wondered. He still had work to do up in his office for the funeral and wake that was booked for tomorrow morning.

As Dean drew away from Cas’ body up the stairs out of the mortuary, the familiar feeling of emptiness slowly crept back in, like an ocean tide pulling out of an estuary, the hole within him that had briefly been filled was returned to the status quo. 

He noticed that the further he went up the stairs the bleaker he felt, and for the first time in his life, Dean felt lonely.

\----------------

Dean’s sleep had been fitful, filled with dreams he would forget as soon as he woke. Yet they left him unnerved with a lingering discontentment. The previous afternoon had been hell, and now Dean had to pull deep into his reserves and use all his self control not to run back down to the mortuary, yank back the sheet and beseech the corpse to reveal his secrets.

_Why him? Why now? Why?_

Dressed in his stiff funeral suit, the morning's funerary proceedings passed as if he was moving in a bubble, going through the motions, without actually being present. Everything went off without a hitch - the funeral being a simple affair for the Merill family who had lost their patriarch to old age, and the wake had been a subdued event that finished up before lunch. 

Ash arrived at one o’clock to help with the clean up and assist with moving Castiel’s body to prepare it for the embalming process.

Dean felt on edge already before Ash had arrived, and now his hackles were up at the thought of sharing Castiel with someone else; the intimacy of the process wasn’t something that normally bothered him. 

“Yo, Dean, man, how's it hanging?” Ash’s familiar greeting rang through the house. Ash had entered through the front door, the business entrance.

Dean couldn’t help the bite in his tone, stirred on by Ash’s blasé attitude.

“Ash, you moron! How many times have I told you not to come in the front door? There _could_ have been mourners here, and _your_ sorry ass would have _really_ set them off!” Dean was fuming, his usual calm demeanour shattered before his eyes. 

“Woah! My bad, compadre, someone get outta the wrong side of the bed today?” Ash took the hint, back peddling fast, holding his hands up before him as he entered the mourning room. “Hey, see no one's around, man, no harm no foul right?.” He moved closer to Dean about to give him a slap on the back, but appeared to sense the tension coming off him and quickly withdrew his hand, swiping back his mullet instead.

“So, where do you need me today?” Ash seemed to err on the side of caution, and dropped the matter to get straight to work. 

“Sorry, Ash.” Dean looked sheepish. “Just the clean up will be fine, I already moved Novak onto the tray yesterday, I should be fine by myself down there.” Dean didn’t meet Ash’s eyes as he spoke; he felt like his friend would be able to see the falsity in his statement and call him out.

“No problemo, amigo. Clean up duty it is.” Ash swept past him, and gathered plates and glasses as he went through to the kitchen.

\----------------

The reverence with which Dean dressed for his work that afternoon went far beyond the usual routine. He changed into his scrubs, tucked his shirt into the elastic waist of the pants, the powder green a perfect match to his tired eyes.

Each step down to the mortuary was like walking through time, a step closer to what has been, what could have been, what had gone before. 

_A step closer to filling the well inside of him._

As he entered the refrigerated room, he paused waiting for the flicker of lights, or the tingle up his spine that signaled he wasn’t alone; however none of these things happened, he was left standing in the cold room, just standing before a body and nothing more.

He was alone and lonely.

Resignation slumped his shoulders and he moved toward the tray, sliding it out into the embalming room, to begin the procedures that would see Castiel’s body into his final resting place.

Dean always worked with the utmost respect towards whichever body lay before him. He took pride in bringing the person back to a likeness as close to life as possible. He was well aware that every person's reaction to seeing their loved ones in this form differed drastically. After working on people he’d known while living, he had a very real knowledge of the fact that no matter what he did they would never appear exactly as they had been. But down here, alone, Dean was the master of his domain, and this part of his job was more of a vocation. He had a love for what he did, and what he did was the very best. Every single time.

He pulled back the sheet that covered Castiel’s body and disposed of it in a bin for washing. Castiel had been a fit man, even with the sunken features of death Dean could see definition of muscle in his lithe form. The harsh jagged cut that decorated his forearm appeared so out of place from the rest of him, the pain that was held in that one mark told more of a story to Dean than any eulogy could. 

He dropped his head in a silent prayer, sending a wish to whoever was listening that Castiel’s soul was at peace.

Dean finished putting the last of his personal protective items on, a mask over his mouth and nose, a screen that covered his face (an item that looked somewhat like a welder's mask but made with thin clear perspex), and then double gloved. He was ready to begin.

The sanitation of the body was one of the things Dean felt was more personal and private than perhaps even the embalming itself. Dean thoroughly washed Castiel, moving from the head and hair in a process down. Dried flakes of blood that still hung onto his arm were washed away, floating down the reservoir of the table and disappeared down the tiny drain. Dean liked to think of this as a time to wash away the remnants of a life lived, cleaning the slate for the next journey. 

He thought himself a little sentimental perhaps, but it suited him to believe this.

As he reached Castiel’s legs, a thin shiver ran up his back. With a flick of the wrist he shut off the nosal on the shower hose and halted just above Castiel’s shin. Before turning, he glanced down at where his hand had stopped, an old silvered scar ran down the length of the tibia.

“Oh man, you should have seen the look on Mother’s face when I did that.”

Dean spun around, the voice which had been so faint the day before echoed in the sterile room, the tone light and jovial. 

Before him stood a boy, the same features present in the man of the previous day, now encapsulated within the body of a child. He couldn’t have been more than twelve years old, baby fat still clung in places, dirt streaked his face and hands, and there was a large tear in his jeans right where the scar would reside so many years later.

“You fell from the tree out in Monument Park?” The reply had spilled from Dean’s lips before he could process the thought.

“Yeah! I called out to you, remember? The gang was there and that tree just screamed to be climbed. You didn’t come though... I called out and you ran. Did I scare you?”

Dean thought back to that time, the memory’s cloudy edges slowly dissipated to reveal the entirety of that moment in time.

Dean had been walking home after completing his paper route. He was idly playing with the two dollars in his pocket, payment for a job well done. 

Unlike the other boys Rufus hired, who preferred to cycle, he would walk the route. Dean enjoyed feeling the weight of his cargo over his back, and the burn in his legs on the big hills, but walking also brought a sense of calm over Dean that he couldn’t find elsewhere. He would whistle a tuneless song as he went, dropping each paper right on the doorstep of the recipient's house. He noticed that he would always receive the best tips and gifts at christmas from all the people on his route. No one had ever complained of dirty, soggy, unreadable papers in his area and that was why Rufus, the general store owner never complained that Dean took twice as long as the other boys.

Halfway home Dean crossed through Monument Park, a shortcut that offered him some escape under the huge trees from the blazing heat of the summer sun. He recalled seeing a group of boys, all around his age, some he knew from school, others from around town- those were the ones with rich parents that packed them off to boarding schools; he would only see them around during the holidays.

A dark-haired boy in a striped t-shirt waved his arm in Dean’s direction, calling out something inaudible as the words were caught on the wind and blown away. Dean hadn’t been sure at the time, if it had been an invitation to play or perhaps some insult or tease. He assumed the second.

Dean was no stranger to teasing, the kids at school knew where he lived and what his family did, so that provided a litany of fodder for them to pick, but Dean was also strange, and as with any small community, being different was like wearing a neon sign above your head.

He didn’t realise he’d been staring at the group lost in thought, as soon as he did he took off across the park as fast as his legs would take him. When he reached the furthest edge of the park where it spilled out onto the road adjacent to his own, Dean heard a high pitched scream carry on the wind. He didn’t even look back, whatever it was couldn’t be good, and for some reason Dean’s mind had conjured up an image of the gang of boys taking up sticks to chase after him.

It wasn’t until the next day while at the general store that he overheard Ms Harvelle talking to Rufus about the Novak boy falling from a tree in the park. Mrs Novak had caused an almighty scene threatening to sue the council and have the trees chopped down “I mean for goodness sake, Rufus, can you imagine the nerve of that woman?”

The memory faded away again and Dean looked to the young boy, “That was you?”

The young image of Castiel nodded, he was chewing on his bottom lip, his eyes glanced around the room, and his fingers fiddled with the hem of his sleeve.

“I thought you were teasing me. I never even heard what you said,” Dean paused “I was scared a lot back then. No one liked me all that much, you know?” Dean explained by way of an apology which really wasn’t warranted. 

Something about this boy, made him feel safe.

He’d never confided his feelings to anyone before, ever. Dean was a stoic, loner... at least that was how people saw him. Thinking back now, Dean wasn’t even sure if he’d ever really had a _friend_.

“I just wanted you to come climb trees with us. I wasn’t teasing, I promise.” Castiel’s voice hitched at the end and a small tear fell down his chubby cheek.

“I’ve never climbed a tree.” Dean replied, the full weight of an opportunity lost crashing into him.

“What?!” Castiel’s young eyes shot up to Dean, a look of disbelief spread across his face. “Boy, climbing trees is the best, once you get up to the first branch it’s easy and you can get so high, and see for miles around you!” His excitement began to peter out then “I used to hide in the trees at home, Mother could never find me there, I’d hear her yelling and see her going red in the face, but she couldn’t see me.”

“The Tower.” Dean murmured.

Castiel looked at him quizzically but remained silent.

“The Tower, it’s where I used to go to hide. From my Father that is.” he shuffled where he stood, eyes downcast.

Set into the centre of the Winchester house, rising into the skyline was _The Tower_. It was a large turret like feature that rose above the shale roof line of the two story home.

“Dang! that sounds pretty cool! I’d love to see that some day.” Castiel replied, all childish excitement returning to his voice.

“Yeah, that... that would have been nice.” Dean replied. He turned away from the child and towards the body of the man, as his eyes began to cloud with tears he furiously tried to blink away.

Dean resumed cleansing Castiel’s body, unsure if the child was still standing behind him. He just needed a moment to gather himself.

Shortly after he’d rinsed the last of the sanitizing agent away, Castiel’s small childlike voice peeped up from behind him.

“Maybe one day we can?”

Dean was about to reply, of course they wouldn’t, couldn’t he see he was dead?

But a second later the lights flickered once again and Dean was left alone in his mortuary, with the body of something that might have been.

 


	3. Chapter 3

While the body was drying Dean began the delicate work on Castiel’s face.

The opaque gaze of those lifeless eyes that had once stared out so blue and true, were now just a shadow of their previous beauty. Dean slipped the oval eye caps under the lids, and pulled them shut, where they would stay, leaving that blue ocean just a figment of memory.

Castiel was finally taking on a look of peace, beginning his transformation from slack and empty death to the never ending sleep.

Dean selected the needle injector from his bench top, and inserted it into the nasal cavity to make the required sutures, hooping it up in an intricate pattern to close Castiel’s mouth.

The grey tones of Castiel’s skin were the only indication that he was not just asleep. Dean took a moment to look upon his body, mentally preparing himself for the embalming procedure. The stillness in the room chilled him to the core, and he silently pleaded with Castiel’s spirit to fill the empty space with the vibrancy of life that his visage effortlessly seemed to do.

The constant whirring of the cooling system was the only sound in the mortuary, the rhythm usually lulled Dean into a meditative state while he worked; only now it seemed to enhance the otherwise silent surroundings.

Dean mixed the chemicals in the embalming machine, preparing it for the infusion that would push the blood from the body and restore Castiel to a colour and shape much closer to his living self. He made a small incision just below the right clavicle, raised up the carotid artery where he inserted the fine needle to begin the process.

As the fluid filtered into Castiel’s veins, his fingers began to plump and the colour started to return. Dean moved down the table and took one of Castiel’s hands to massage the fingertips, to keep them supple in his grasp, then he leaned over Castiel’s body to take the other hand in his own and continued the process.

As he reached the pointer finger on Castiel’s right hand Dean noticed a long line of scar tissue, leading to the very tip of the finger which, upon further inspection seemed to be missing, a knot of bumpy skin left in its wake.

“Do you remember 4th of July 1995?”

Dean was jolted from his progress, to see he was no longer standing in his mortuary alone.

Castiel had aged, a growth spurt or two, lengthening his limbs and melting some of the baby fat from his body, his facial features were still soft around the edges, which gave him the angelic look of a cherub.

“Gabriel was in _so_ much trouble that year! It was all his fault, he should never have stolen the fireworks from the grounds staff.” Castiel chuckled to himself. “They were bigger than we expected, should have known really, Mother never does anything by halves. Of course _our_ fireworks display was going to be the best in the neighborhood.” Castiel regarded his own hand for a moment. The length of his forearm was blackened, his hand bundled in a dirty shirt, but the deep rouge of dried blood could still be seen in places.

“Did you see them, Dean?”

Dean stared into Castiel’s young blue eyes, he couldn’t be more than 16, young enough that he was still filled with the hope and the glitter of a life unsullied by harsh realities. 

Dean cast his mind back to that year. _Had he seen them?_

Slowly he drifted back, until the mortuary faded away and Dean was lost in his memory.

\----------------

Dean was sitting on his pillow by the circular window in the tower.

The house was silent apart from the tinny echo of the television coming up through the walls. Dean’s father was downstairs in the lounge, passed out on the couch with a bottle of whiskey in one hand, the other loosely gripping the remote. The man was surrounded by bottles of beer, he’d been drinking the whole day.

Dean had escaped his father’s festivities by sneaking up to his hideaway in the tower. All the warning signs had been there, his father had become more and more belligerent, and Dean knew when to get out before a beating.

Holidays in the Winchester house were not a fun time, not since his mother had passed. In the years gone by the house would have been full of family and friends, the smell of baking coming from the kitchen, the home alive with laughter and conversation. 

These days it was an empty shell of its former self.

His younger brother, Sammy was lucky enough to be a popular likable kid. He held none of the awkward shyness of his brother, he was great at sports and super smart, leaving him with a gaggle of followers and hangers on, all vying for his winning smile.

Sam was at his friend Kevin’s house. Kevin had a big family and Sam was always welcome within their folds. So this left Dean at home, of course his brother had extended the invitation to him; but someone had to stay home. Someone had to make sure Dad didn’t burn the house down in a drunken stupor.

Staring out the window Dean took in the night's sky. The fathomless ocean of stars reached out before him, and the dull glow of the city centre lighting up the horizon. Only a few trees and rooftops hampered his view.

While he watched the colours of the sky change as the full depth of darkness took hold in the evening sky, he pondered what life would be like with a friend. Someone to have his back, a confidant and companion. 

A local kid came to mind, one of the rich kids who were sent away to boarding school, the boy had once called out to him many years ago, and Dean pondered: _What would have happened if he’d gone to play?_

Castiel. 

Dean recalled his name; he’d seen him around town that summer. The kid had grown up some, lengthening and slimming, some of the baby fat burning off to leave long toned limbs.

Dean never hung around with Castiel’s crowd, he was too scared to approach the adventurous teenager. His antics were a thing of daydreams for Dean, of course he could never do any of those things himself, the world of teenage rebellion and exploration locked out of his world through guilt and worry.

He’d seen first hand what happened when tomfoolery went bad, his father constantly drumming into his head the numerous young people and children who came into their work on a cold slab, to lay in wait in the mortuary before their parents would come and wail over a life taken too soon.

A particularly gruesome event involving an 18 year old boy and a motorcycle would forever stay in his memory. His father had gone to great lengths to describe in minute detail how he’d had to sew together the young man’s face, and stuff his clothes so their family could have an open casket. He’d told Dean how the rest of the body had been too damaged to be displayed, the police and clean up crews having to scrape him off the road and collect his remaining body parts in bags. 

Dean hadn’t finished his dinner that night, and for weeks his dreams had been filled with disturbing images of blood-smeared roads.

Dean was broken from his morbid thoughts by the sight of the darkened sky exploding into a myriad of colours.

The explosions were close, the clouds of smoke puffed up into the air below the bright rainbow of stardust being pushed up into the sky. 

Dean was transfixed as one firework gave way to another and then another, bright stars, windmills and snakes taking to the sky and scattering their sparkle over the town. The embers floated down to almost reach the rooftops before fizzing out with a puff of smoke.

[](http://imgur.com/Dm0CgfL)

The spectacular show was over far too soon and the sky was dark again. In the distance Dean could hear the cheers of young and old alike.

He stayed in his hideaway, watching and waiting. Anticipation buzzed under his skin... for what he couldn’t be sure. The promise of more, perhaps not fireworks, but a promise of a future. That’s what the sky gave him with its fathomless universe trapped up above just out of reach... Freedom.

\----------------

The sun caught his eyes, warming his bones when he woke up. He was curled around his pillow, huddled in around himself for warmth in the cold draughty room. Dean shook himself awake; _not again,_ he thought as he stretched out his limbs, cracking his neck. Too many mornings he found himself waking up on the hard wooden floor. The worst of it was that these nights were some of his best nights of sleep despite being without the comforts of a bed and pillow.

His father would still be asleep, likely where Dean had left him on the couch. Waking with the sun suited Dean just fine, it gave him time when the world was his. He pulled on a coat before walking out the door and into the perfect quiet of the morning.

He loved to go out as the world still slept, the only company the birds in the trees singing out their worship to the sun. Dean didn’t think on where he was walking, just followed his own feet, ambling around the town whistling a tuneless song as he went.

The surface under foot changed and when Dean became aware of his surroundings he found himself in the middle of the park oval. Around him were the remnants of a party, a smouldering camp fire was in the middle of the mess of empty bottles and cans of beer. Amongst the debris was the burnt out ends of firecrackers and sparklers. As Dean shifted some of the mess with the toe of his shoe he found what looked to be a surprising amount to dried blood soaked into the dirt and wrappers. A torn, wadded-up t-shirt was discarded a few feet away, the looks of a makeshift bandage stained a deep shade of crimson and brown.

“Hey! You, Kid, You do this?”

Dean turned to see the groundskeeper stalking across the oval towards him.

“Hey stop this minute! You can’t leave this mess here! wait!”

Dean could hear the man shouting as he turned and ran, he ran as hard and as fast as he could, not stopping for a moment even when his foot caught on a root and almost sent him skidding across the ground, he just kept running, his heart beating hard and fast in his chest.

\----------------

“You saw that... I didn’t know.”

Dean nodded.

“Gabe tossed me a lit firecracker. He never was one for forward thinking.”

“Did it hurt?” Dean murmured.

“Damn right it did.”

And even in the face of pain Castiel’s youthful glee shone through his eyes, mischief lay deep in there, as well as something else, something Dean was yet to put his finger on.

He wasn’t surprised this time when the visage shifted again and ebbed away. The same emptiness was left behind though, and that was something Dean thought he’d never get used to again.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

The colour returned to Castiel’s sallow skin, as Dean massaged the limbs to keep them supple and moving. The whir of the embalming machine was familiar, almost comforting; its hypnotizing drone pulled Dean deep into his own head.

Dean’s thoughts fell to his little brother. Sam was the free one, able to get out from under the heavy hold of their father’s rule. Dean often felt a longing to be and do as Sam had, but he’d never call it jealousy. Sam’s life was never meant to be weighed down, he was the second son; Sam was meant for great things.

He was the brains of the family, always so smart, with too many questions and a need to know more. Lebanon and the family business would never have been able to contain him. So Dean did what he needed to do to take the heat off his brother. He dedicated his life to the family business so that Sam could be free.

They rarely spoke these days. Two spirits on different trajectories, they had so little in common, and besides there was nothing left in Lebanon worth Sam coming home for. Dean had denied Sam’s offers for company on holidays so many times - telling him to just have fun with his friends - that Sam eventually stopped asking. There was no fight or massive moment where they disconnected, it was just the process of time, like so many other things in Dean’s life, it just faded away.

When their father died, Sam came home from university just long enough for the funeral. 

Of course Dean organised the whole affair, he even prepared his father’s body. What should have been one of the most emotional moments of his life, was simply empty. Dean felt nothing, not even anger. 

Dean knew how Sam felt - as though they both shouldn’t even be there, all this pomp and finery for a drunk and bitter man… no, John Winchester didn’t deserve the coffin he lay in. He’d pleaded with Dean to sell up and leave, give it away now.

 _Couldn’t he see he was free?_ His brother had implored him.

Dean’s mind skimmed over the years that followed, the loneliness that became nothing more than the ordinary. The longer he stayed in this place surrounded by death the more life among the living became harder to obtain. 

Perhaps that was why the appearance of Castiel’s ghost was not freaking him the fuck out. _Hell_ , he wasn’t sure if this fact _should_ unsettle him or not. 

_Had a life living with the dead completely changed him?_

\----------------

Dean’s hand skimmed over Castiel’s torso and landed on his prominent hip bone. His focus was drawn to that spot, where, below his fingertips was the remnants of a silvery pitted scar over his right hip and down to his mid thigh.

The air in the room instantly dropped in temperature and Dean was once again confronted with an image of Castiel.

This time, the youngster he knew was replaced with the very image from the photo sitting in his office right now. However the childlike glow and mischievous glimmer seemed snuffed out, instead the person that stood before him was a shell of what Dean had come to know.

Cas’ shoulders were hunched in his loose fitting shirt, the fisherman pants hung low on his hips, the right side shredded and dirty. Gravel and grass clung to his body, his face was smudged with dirt and blood. For a moment the visage just stared at his own body unmoving. 

Dean wasn’t sure if he should do anything, and being somewhat intimidated by this new image, he did nothing at all and stood as still as Castiel. The seconds ticked over, stretching out time. When Cas finally broke his silent vigil it was like a switch was pressed and the personality that Dean had come to know came bouncing back.

“Sheeeeeit, dude! That was a close shave.” Castiel drew out his speech, somewhat slurred. His cheeky sparkle was back although something still deadened his eyes, seemingly eating his lifeforce from inside out. 

Dean didn’t know how to receive this Castiel, whereas before he felt a part of the moment, here he couldn’t have felt more distant. He erred on the side of caution, and waited for Cas to reveal more.

“It was supposed to be a trip of a lifetime. First time out of the country; and don’t get me wrong, man, I had a blast. Just the story of my life I suppose. What goes up must come down.” The grief flowing off the apparition was palpable. Dean had no doubt that Castiel had lost something on this trip, he couldn’t be sure but he thought perhaps it had something to do with faith and hope.

“Vietnam right?” Dean supplied

“Yeah, how’d you know?” Castiel’s face showed the barest hint of curiosity.

“I have a picture of you in the office. Your brother gave it to me, said it’s how he wanted to remember you, and...” there was more but Dean really wasn’t sure if he should share that side of the story.

“Typical Gabe, always so sentimental. Bet he said it was how I’d want to be remembered, too?” Cas offered, somehow leaving out an unspoken truth that Dean was yet to grasp.

“What else were you going to say?” Castiel prompted, cocking his head to the side and slightly pursing his lips.

“Your mother…” Dean started before Cas interrupted with a loud scoff and crossed his arms across his chest. Dean waited a moment before continuing. “I overheard her while she was in the post office, i don’t recall the whole conversation, really it’s incidental.” Dean didn’t want to continue with this line of conversation. He did remember, of course he did, who could forget the callous words that horrid woman had spat out in public. 

“Don’t worry, Dean. I heard it all when I got home. Apparently getting hit by a truck was clearly an act of defiance and all i really wanted to do was, once again let _her_ and the precious family name down.” Castiel’s tone was bitter, the words spat out short and sharp.

“At least you got out” Dean spat back, suddenly angry with this petulant version of Cas.

Cas turned a razor sharp glare on Dean, arms still folded across his chest, “Hah! You think I got out? I’m a Novak, Dean, I can’t ever get out.” Cas turned away, his image started to flicker.

Dean felt his face reddening, feeling abashed for his outburst.

“You don’t get it do you?” Cas questioned, looking back over his shoulder, “All you have to do is pack a bag.” and with that he was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

The heat slowly dissipated from his cheeks, yet the admonished feeling of reprimand still clung to his bones. 

The embalming machine clicked off drawing Dean’s attention to the task at hand again. He pulled out the needle and quickly and efficiently went through the motions of the final wash down of the body before it would be dressed for the funeral.

\----------------

Dean retreated from the mortuary, alighting the stairs two at a time. He wandered past his office on the way up to his room and noticed a message on the answering machine. Naomi Novak’s prim voice rang out from the tinny speakers announcing that she would be arriving at 3pm to drop off her son’s clothing. Dean glanced at his watch, 2.45pm - he cursed softly under his breath and rushed the stairs to get changed into his formal wear.

At 3pm sharp the bell that hung on the door chimed, signalling that someone had entered. Dean walked from his office through to the mourning room to find Mrs Novak standing ramrod straight in a tailored grey skirt and suit jacket. A sparkling angel brooch was pinned on the lapel. She nodded curtly at Dean as he entered, and didn’t wait for him to greet her before she thrust a suit bag into his arms.

“These are the clothes for Castiel Novak, I can trust that you know how to fit a three piece?” She raised a thinly plucked eyebrow at Dean.

“Yes, ma’am, that will be no trouble at all,” was all Dean dared to reply to such a condescending question. He cleared his throat. “Will there be any other personal effects that you would like laid with your son?”

“Just this watch,” Naomi reached into her oversized handbag and brought out a rich dark wooden box. “It was a gift from his father, I think it should rest with him.” A tender look passed over Naomi’s face, but within seconds it was absent again.

“Well if that will be all, I have lots to do today, I can’t be wasting my time.” Immediately all of Dean’s thoughts of a grieving mother were firmly pushed aside.

Naomi brushed past him on her way out, turning at the door and calling out over her shoulder, “You _will_ make him look respectable. I don’t know what Gabriel said to you, but you best remember who is paying your fees.” With that she was gone, door slammed shut in her wake.

Dean tried to process the scene that had just occurred. He had no standard of experience to hold this woman’s actions up against. His own experiences with family hadn’t been great, but for all John Winchester’s faults, he had never been cold. In fact his downfall came from running too hot. His ‘passion’ for family was what had led to Dean’s self-imposed exile; John’s problems stemmed from caring too much.

Dean began to truly understand the despondent words he had heard from this bitter Castiel. 

\----------------

Dean waited until the sun had set before returning to the mortuary to dress Castiel. He told himself he’d needed the time to finish some filing and get dinner started but if he was being honest with himself he was really avoiding the inevitable.

Once Castiel was suited up, the makeup applied to his face and he was placed in his coffin there would be no further need for Dean to attend to the body. As morbid as it was, Dean had grown so close to the man downstairs. Not the corpse on the table, but the apparitions that appeared. They filled a hole, a missing link in Dean’s heart; but they also made him realise something was missing in the first place. Like it or not, this experience was going to change Dean. For better or worse, his eyes were now open to the empty hollowness of his life, and his previous contentment with the mundane had gone, leaving him feeling a palpable absence.

With so much expectation in the dressing of Castiel’s body, the actual event went without incident and it wasn’t until Dean was almost finished with applying the makeup to his face that any sign of his ghostly companion transpired.

As Dean added the final touches, and combed Castiel’s hair into some semblance of order, his fingers brushed over a small scar right in the hairline. 

There was no flickering of lights or change in temperature to indicate anything was happening. The only thing Dean noted and so momentarily he could have missed it, was the smell of rain.

He turned from the body and froze.

An inhuman chill ran down his spine.

“It was you.” Dean whispered.

He turned a whiter shade of pale. The same ghostly pallor of Castiel’s disheveled apparition. 

Dean had seen this rumpled man before.

\----------------

It was so dark, the rain had poured down harder than it had all year, hitting the hard earth and splashing right back up. The road was an instant mirror, lights reflecting in long shimmering mirages; and the gutters were filled to overflowing in moments.

Dean was standing in the park under the protection of the big oak tree. Caught out on one of his nightly walks by the sudden ferocious storm, the huge branches were the only shelter anywhere near him. Dean didn’t mind the rain much, it turned the world into a watercolour, blurring the edges of everything so it didn’t seem so harsh anymore.

He didn’t see the lights heading towards him until the last minute, the wailing sound of brakes doing nothing but jam up the wheels of the dark car, screeched through his head. It was a sound he didn’t think he’d ever forget.

One minute he was standing humming a tuneless song, and the next he was leaping for his life. The car jumped the curb and crashed straight into the tree, where, not even seconds before Dean had been standing.

What turned his blood cold now wasn’t the memory of the leap, or the sound; but the image of the bedraggled person falling from the wreck, the sobs that emanated from the person were so heart wrenching that Dean thought perhaps someone in the car was badly hurt.

That same person stood before him right now.

Blood ran down Castiel’s face, dripping sluggishly from his chin. The gash on his forehead ragged and angry looking. His black suit was creased, and soaked through, the white shirt turning sheer from the rain. Dean noticed the blue tie, turned backwards. It had been the thing he remembered most from the accident, perhaps it was the shock of almost being killed, but Dean hadn’t been able to get the image of that back-to-front tie against the soaked shirt out of his head.

It had been shock that had made Dean run, too. He didn’t remember what had spooked him, but no sooner had he seen the man get out of the car, obviously distressed; and Dean had been running. 

Right now he thought back to that time so long ago, running through the park away from that tree, escaping a friendship that could have been. It seemed funny to him how his childhood memory paralleled that night.

Once home, Dean had grabbed an old bottle of whiskey from a cupboard and curled up in a corner of the kitchen shaking uncontrollably, he tried his best to deaden the adrenaline that coursed through his veins. 

\----------------

The visage of Castiel, said nothing. The grief and pain was etched across his whole face, his whole body shuddered with the silent sobs that wracked through him. It was as if the rain was still falling on him. 

Dean couldn’t do anything but stare, a tiny tremor ran through him.

“I.. I’m so so sorry,” Castiel spoke. His words broken by his silent tears.

Dean wanted to reply but was suddenly lost for words. How many times had their lives crossed? So close yet so far... they had almost touched, impacted each other in ways they could never fathom, never have known… until now.

Before Dean could gather his thoughts Cas had turned away and walked off, his image dissipating the further he went until there was nothing left but wet footprints on the floor.

“I forgive you,” Dean whispered to the empty room.


	6. Chapter 6

The wooden box sat alone on the counter, the last piece of Castiel’s puzzle to send him off to the next life.

Dean retrieved the box and let his fingers dance over the grain, following the swirls and lines. The latch was gold and lifted as if it hadn’t been opened in a long time, the stiff joint resisting the action.

A silver watch lay inside secured around a green velvet pillow, Dean undid the clasp and took it into his hands; the weight spoke of quality and money. It seemed a waste to bury it in the earth forevermore. The back was engraved, the words faded with wear: “ _A life lived in fear is a life half lived.”_

Dean’s vision began to mist, this time not from any apparition, but the steady flow of tears falling down his cheeks. He cursed himself for letting his emotions run amok. He wasn’t an emotional person, no– he was a man, _a Winchester,_ made of stronger stuff.

But he wasn’t, not really. His father was that man. His father was strong, stoic and manly. His father was the one who was passionate about the business, his father was the one who wanted this future for Dean. His father was dead, and for all the life he’d had, Dean may as well have been too.

The tears were coming in a steady flow now, his shoulders shuddered with the silent sobs. Dean took Castiel’s wrist in his hand, pull up the sleeve of his suit so he could attach the watch. He turned the arm to latch the strap, and there under his fingers were the scars that this whole time Dean had been trying to ignore. 

The death wound, stitched roughly by the coroner, vicious even now in its pink puckered state. Dean broke down clutching Castiel’s hand, wishing now more than ever for Cas to come back and save him from this life, alone. How could someone with so much life and vibrancy, so much passion and will have succumb to the most painful of deaths. 

This strong man ripped his own life out of his hands. 

Dean’s head dropped to Castiel’s arm. His tears fell onto those powerful scars and without Dean’s knowing the salty droplets slipped between the jagged lines and into Castiel. Dean’s whole world suddenly centred on this one moment. 

\----------------

A rumbling sound drew Dean’s attention away from where he lay. He found nowhere to focus though, the noise didn’t emanate from anywhere around him. Instead, as he concentrated harder he realised it felt as though it was coming from inside of him. 

The minutes stretched like hours, this sound swelling within his veins, pulsing within him, getting stronger and louder, crescendoing until he thought he could not bear it any longer.

He fell to his knees, his hand going by reflex to cover his ears. When he thought his head might explode from the noise, the room shifted and started to hum, the sound pulling out from him and taking up the space of the entire room. It amplified, the pitch getting higher and higher until the walls vibrated.

The entire room pulsed, moving so fast Dean’s eyes could no longer focus on anything, the walls vibrating like the wings of an insect. 

The cracks came first, at least that’s what Dean thought they were. It sounded like lightening striking right there in the room, clapping over and over without letting up. The ground he had fallen to crumbled under him, the concrete turned to sand in his hands. The walls disintegrated, large pieces peeled away and fell around him.

The panic he was trying so hard to keep tamped down rose up and out of his throat in a loud hysterical scream, a scream that had no end, that Dean had - now that he’d started - no way to stop.

The ground fell away completely and he was free falling, darkness swallowed him whole. 

_This was it_ , Dean thought; the emptiness inside him had won. 

This was the end.

\----------------

 

The sun streamed in through the window, the curtains lay open. Dean woke with the birds, his alarm going unused just like every morning. His clothes were laid out over the old carver chair in the corner of his room. Quickly and quietly he got dressed, slipping on his shoes as he hopped down the stairs. The house was quiet like it always was, save for the ticking - he glanced up at the big grandfather clock in the hall before he grabbed his bag and was out the door. 

Rufus sure would be pleased that he was early for his paper run today.


	7. Chapter 7

The temperature was soaring and it hadn’t even reached noon. The only place to offer any reprieve was Monument park with it’s huge trees. Castiel rallied his friends together. They’d been playing basketball on the front drive of Zach’s house, the sun turning their young skin a flushed pink.

Zachariah’s Mum had left lemonade out for them, but it had been forgotten for a game of ball and was now a warm syrupy disappointment rather than the refreshing treat it could have been.

“Let’s get outta here!” Cas called out as he wiped the sweat off his forehead. “How bout popsicles from Rufus’, then we can climb trees in the park.”

All the boys cheered; it wasn’t hard for Castiel to lead the group, he had the bearing of a natural leader, and kids were drawn to his adventurous spirit and penchant for mischief. 

They all grabbed their bikes and skateboards and took off for Rufus’ shop. The group rode spread out across the whole street, weaving and winding their way in between each other. The air was filled with shouts and whistles, the ringing of bike bells and the general tomfoolery of a gang of young boys.

At Rufus’ shop the noise only grew louder until the surly old man told them all to “Settle down or git”. That was all it took to calm the frenzy, no one messed with Rufus on his turf, and besides, in this heat, popsicles were worth their weight in gold!

Cas was the last one up to the counter to pay and as he fumbled to get the coins from his pockets he noticed a boy standing behind the curtain that lead to the stockroom out the back. Cas had seen the boy around but they had never spoken, he was just about to call out to him but when he turned back the kid was gone. The rest of the gang were calling out so he didn’t linger to see if he would show his face again.

They arrived at the park with sticky fingers and big smiles, their bikes forgotten for the huge trees and lush grass all draped in shade. Cas had just taken to the first branch in the biggest tree when he saw the boy from the shop.

“Hey! Come Play!” Cas called out, waving his hand excitedly. The boy seemed to shrink away, he had a nervous look about him like he was a second from dashing away. “Yeah you! Come on.” Cas tried again. The poor kid looked scared to hell but with all the encouragement and excited waving from Cas he finally started to move towards the group.

“Hey, Cas, what you doing? That’s Losechester from the undertakers place.” Zachariah said loudly in a mock whisper, “He’s a weirdo, my brother says he plays with dead people.” 

“Shut it, Zach! Like you’re any better, I’ve seen you burning ants in the sun.” Cas replied. He could see the kid had heard and was about to turn and run. “Don’t listen to Zach, kid. He’s an assbutt.” Cas jumped from the tree and ran over to the boy.

“My name’s Cas, what’s yours?” He stuck out his hand, forgetting about the stickiness before wiping it on his pants and offering his hand again.

“Dean.” The kid replied in a small voice, taking Cas’ hand in a firm handshake that was at odds with the rest of his mannerisms.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Dean. You wanna climb trees with me?” Cas was already talking over his shoulder pulling Dean by the arm to the tree he’d just jumped from.

“I’ve never.” Came Dean’s reply, he looked sheepishly at his shoes, scuffing a toe in the dirt.

“No problemo, Dean! It’s easy, i’ll show you.” And with that the two were off.

Cas gave Dean a legup to the first branch and once he had clambered up there with him they started to scramble through the branches. Dean took to it like a monkey, and it wasn’t long until they were both red faced and laughing in the high tops of the tree. 

“So what you into, Dean? I don’t see you around much.” Cas was curious about this kid, he had a light in his eyes that only seemed to brighten while they played. Cas had a skill for scoping people out and Dean seemed like he was a good person, just a bit shy was all.

“I don’t play with the local kids much… I dunno, they just don’t like me. I like to read… you know books and comics.”

“Comics! Dude, I love comics. Superman is my favourite!” Cas said excitedly.

“No way, man! Batman is the coolest by far. He does all the things Superman does without any of the powers. He’s amazing!” Dean’s whole body vibrated with excitement, he looked ready to fight over this.

“How cool would it be if they teamed up though. Like they could save everyone in the world!” Cas said. 

“But, dude they’re too different! It would never work!” Dean replied with the self satisfied air of someone with the most knowledge.

“Don’t mean we can’t pretend.” Cas shot back, not to be outdone.

“Alright then, Superman, let’s take down that band of criminals right now. You take the right flank i’ll take the left. On three.. One.. Two…” Dean wasn’t able to end his countdown before Cas jumped from the tree.

There was a sickening sound as he landed, the break audible to those close by. Cas held his breath, the shock of what had happened giving him the briefest moment of reprieve. His eyes were wide with fright and it felt as if he’d never take another breath again. He could make out that Dean was beside him, shouting something but all he could see were his lips moving, he couldn’t hear a thing above the sound of his blood pumping in his ears.

The next breath came as he knew it eventually would, and when it did so came the pain. Cas almost choked then let out a horrible scream, tears instantly stinging in his eyes. Dean was there, holding him upright, the firm hand on his back a solid comfort.

When Cas was able to look around, everyone else had gone, scattered away for fear of getting in trouble, too chicken to stick around. Good for nothing friends. The only person that had stuck around was Dean. 

“Gotta go call an ambulance, Cas, do you hear me? I’ve gotta go but i’ll be right back.” Dean looked panicked, but he had an air of control about him that made Cas feel so much better. 

“Yeah, yeah ok… I’ll be ok.” Cas replied between gritted teeth. As soon as he’d spoken Dean was off, running in the direction of Rufus’ store. Without Dean’s solid weight and calming presence Cas thought he might not be able to hold himself together. He could feel the tears streaming from his eyes, the dampness on his cheeks. The pain was like nothing he’d felt before, it was as if he could feel his heart beating in his leg, and with every pump the shooting pain seared into his brain.

He started to feel dizzy, the world sat on an uneven axis and was about to start spinning, his stomach lurched with the world. He began to think he may black out when Dean got back panting hard. “Rufus called the ambulance! It’ll be here in no time, he said he’d call your momma too.” 

Cas flinched at that; his mother would be so angry. He couldn’t focus on that though, because right now he was about to lose the contents of his stomach. When he turned to look up at Dean, the motion was what tipped him over the edge. He spewed up, only narrowly missing Dean’s shoes but covering his own hand in the process.

Dean didn’t shy away though, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, taking Cas’ hand and wiping the foul liquid away. 

“Sorry.” Cas looked away, ashamed.

“Don’t worry, Cas. My little brother Sammy had stomach flu last year, it was a hundred times worse than this. You’re good.” Dean said. He seemed genuine and Cas liked that about him. Compared to his other friends, Dean didn’t seem to have any bravado or front. He just said what he meant and meant what he said.

“You don’t have to wait around with me,” Cas spoke quietly. “I don’t want you getting in trouble too.”

“Are you kidding me, I know you’re trying to be brave, Cas, but it’s ok. It’s ok to hurt, it must be horrible.” Dean wrapped his arm around Cas’ shoulders. “I won’t leave you alone. Don’t worry bout me.” 

The ambulance arrived quickly, and although it felt like forever, Dean was good as his word and never left his side. He was even allowed to ride in the ambulance with him, and Cas was pretty grateful because the ambulance man stuck him with needles and meds and he was seriously failing at being brave.

Of course his mother was waiting when they arrived at the hospital, and she didn’t look impressed.

“Castiel Novak, what do you think you are doing? I was in the middle of a _very important_ luncheon for the board of the Wings of Grace Foundation and here you are getting into trouble! I bet this was all on purpose, wasn’t it? Well? Boy, answer me!” Naomi Novak was not happy, one hand was on her hip, the other, a long manicured finger wagging in Cas’ face.

Cas almost jumped when Dean spoke up.

“Excuse me, Mrs Novak, Ma’am, but I don’t know why you’re mad at Cas. It was an accident,” Dean was standing up straight, making himself as tall as possible in front of the the intimidating form of Cas’ mother. “I saw the whole thing and he didn’t mean to fall. He’s been super brave too, and I should know. My brother Sammy broke his arm jumping from the roof and he screamed to high heaven all the way to the hospital.” He nodded his head sagely as if to add weight to the statement. “So if you please, ma’am, I think you should be nice to Cas.” 

Cas could see the moment that the rage took a hold of his mother, her face going red, then purple at the outrage of being spoken to like that from a child.

“You disrespectful _child_ , how _dare_ you speak to me like that. Castiel, this is what happens when you hang around townies.” Naomi was jabbing her finger at Dean’s chest while bearing down on her son. “Get out. I’ll not have you around my Castiel, causing trouble and sassing your elders.” Naomi thrust a twenty dollar bill into Dean’s hand and banished him from Cas’ side, leaving him to his own devices to get a cab home. 

Castiel could see that Dean was conflicted, he didn’t want to leave Cas alone and Cas didn’t want him to go either. But Dean shot Cas a confident wink behind his mother’s back that seemed to say “I’ll see you soon.” 

Cas really hoped he would.

\----------------

It was going to be a long summer being stuck in his room. Cas had been confined to his bedroom and forbidden to leave or have any friends to visit. He was never going to hear the end of this. His mother was on the warpath; she even threatened to have the council chop down the tree. She was so far beyond any kind of angry he’d ever seen before, at least not directed at him anyhow.

Cas was laying awkwardly in his bed, his leg propped up on a pile of pillows. He was just in the process of shoving a ruler down the cumbersome cast trying to relieve the never ending itch when he heard something tapping at his window.

Dean was already peering in. “It’s open.” Cas mouthed using his hands to get the message across. With a little bit of effort Dean pried open the window and jumped into the room.

“Hey! So your Mom is really serious about us not seeing each other, huh? I was lucky I bumped into your brother on the way, he told me this was the safest way to see you.” Dean was looking sweaty from his climb up to the second floor, and he wasn’t turning his head to look directly at Cas, which seemed strange.

“Yeah, she’s never going to get over this, the _witch_. But hey! You can climb now. I did a pretty good job of teaching you, I’d say even a broken leg is worth that!” Cas giggled 

“Yeah, dude! Kinda my new favourite thing to do. But don’t joke about your leg, it could have been so much worse.” Dean said, knitting his eyebrows together with worry.

 _Dean sure did worry a lot,_ Cas thought to himself. Dean moved over to the bed, and cleared some comics from the covers to sit down. It was then that Cas saw Dean’s face.

“Dean! What happened to your eye?” Cas said in alarm. Dean’s right eye was swollen and black. It looked bad, and it looked fresh.

“Oh this, yeah… umm Dad wasn’t too happy with me going off to play. I slacked on my chores. It’s not too bad though, at least I didn’t get the belt.” 

Cas was not happy about this at all, but it seemed that Dean was done with the conversation when he started to prattle on about the latest issue of Batman. That didn’t mean Cas wasn’t going to worry about his friend. 

_Yeah, friend_. They hadn’t known each other for long, but Dean was the only one of his friends to stick around when he fell, and the only person to have visited him. 

Cas knew he’d made a good choice calling him over to play.

\----------------

Dean and Cas spent the rest of the summer this way, Dean sneaking in through the window to bring his friend candy and comics. They would talk, and read, and just hung out, sometimes they’d even fall asleep together the afternoon heat making them drift off on a bed of sticky wrappers. 

Those were the best days, and also the worst. Cas loved spending time with Dean he felt safe when he was there, but then there were the times Dean would return the next day with a bruise or a limp, and Dean wouldn’t have to say anything for Cas to know. His mother might be a cold hearted witch, but she never hurt him, he might want to get out of home as soon as possible, but at least he was safe here. 

He wanted Dean to be safe too. 

 


	8. Chapter 8

“Dean, get your skinny ass over here now! Gabe has a plan brewing and it’s gonna be awesome!” Cas hung up the phone with a clatter, as he bounced around his room grabbing what they’d need.

4th of July was a huge thing in the Novak house, of course. Naomi had to have the biggest party and invite all the best people from the county, there were caterers, servers and even a fireworks technician. No expense was spared. To say Gabe and Cas wanted to be as far away from the event as possible was an understatement 

Cas’ sister Anna, the poor thing, was to be paraded out to all the eligible bachelors like a prized pony. Cas knew she’d much rather be getting into trouble with her brothers but mother wouldn’t let her out of her sight. 

Twenty minutes after Cas hung up, Dean was climbing through his window with a backpack that was making suspicious clinking sounds. 

“Dad’s passed out already, so i snagged us some beers! So what’s the plan?” Dean had a sparkle in his eye. Cas was actually quite shocked because over the years they’d known each other, Dean was still usually the more cautious of the pair. And he had certainly never stolen alcohol from his father, let alone even drunk a beer before to the best of Cas’ knowledge.

“Look at you. A real cat burglar now!” Cas chuckled and messed up Dean’s hair as he gave him a one armed hug in greeting.

“Gabe’s got everything set, he said to meet him in the shed when we’re ready… so, you ready?” Cas asked eagerly 

“Hell yeah, let’s do this.” Dean replied.

The pair snuck down the old servant stairs at the back of the house to avoid running into Naomi, because although she knew that the two saw each other, she still wasn’t pleased; never quite getting over the sass Dean had shown her on their first encounter.

Gabe, on the other hand was instant friends with Dean after hearing about how he’d spoken to his mother; he’d had a fit of giggles and even to this day he would still crack up if someone was to mention it. Gabe was all attitude, sass and backtalk, and although Dean was normally extremely polite, that one encounter gave Dean enough points to be in Gabe’s cool books for life.

Gabe was standing in the middle of the shed, surrounded by what looked like some heavy duty fireworks. And a case of good beer, the foreign stuff that Cas had seen being unloaded for the party earlier in the day.

“Howdy, little dudes. Ready for a _big_ _bang_ of a party?” Gabe said as he disintegrated into laughter at his own joke.

“Holy shit, Gabe. This is big- even for you!” Cas said in awe, taking in everything around his brother.

“No shit Sherlock, this is everything for tonight. I’m just trying to pick the best stuff, not blow a hole in the world. I’m not an idiot.” There was a noticeable silence after Gabe spoke, and he gave the pair the stink eye until his smile erupted again..“Come on, help me pick some fun ones, and then we can grab the beer and blow this joint.” Again he broke out in laughter. 

Today was going to be a long, punny day.

\----------------

A large crowd of young folk had gathered at the park, there was a fire pit going and a boombox blasting out tunes. Someone had strung up some fairy lights through the trees and hung some streamers. It was about as festive as an underage party in Lebanon was going to get.

Of course, Gabe was the center of attention, he was currently off chatting up some cute blonde girl and her jock looking boyfriend. Cas just laughed when he saw his brother. He really didn’t understand the meaning of _‘not a chance in hell.’_

Cas and Dean spent some time hanging out in their tree, drinking Dean’s beers and just watching the party from up high. Cas knew that Dean wasn’t great around loads of people, Dean would always say other people weren’t great with him. Cas could never understand why, but he didn’t care, it meant he got his best friend all to himself.

[](http://imgur.com/XcZUi6L)

Cas kept looking at Dean, the effects of the beers going to both their heads pretty quick. Dean’s cheeks were flushed red, his freckles standing out against the crimson sheen. Cas couldn’t take his eyes off his best friends profile, and as Dean took a big sip from his beer, Cas watched on, captivated by the way his adam's apple bobbed up and down.

“Dude, have i got something on my face?” Dean said, spooking Cas from his trance and nearly knocking him out of the tree.

Trying to cover up being caught staring, he leant over and rubbed Dean’s cheek “Yeah just a bit of dirt. It’s gone now.” _Jesus that was close_. He felt his own cheeks get impossibly hotter and he had to cough to cover up his discomfort.

“Thanks, man. Hey, I think Gabes about to get the fireworks going. Wanna jump down and watch?” Cas nodded and they both jumped down from the tree and made their way over to the rest of the party.

They were both stumbling a bit and there was the slightest slur to their words, Cas felt like he was just on the right side of buzzed. When they got to the fire, Dean wrapped his arm around Cas’ shoulders and leaned heavily into him.

“Such a cool night,” Dean slurred, the alcohol heavy on his breath.

“Cheers.” was all Cas could muster with his best friends body so close to his. His whole body was alight with electricity, and as the first fireworks took to the sky, he thought it really was a pretty awesome night.

\----------------

It all happened pretty fast, Cas heard his brother yell, “Here hold my beer.” followed by “Cassy! Catch!”

Then he was being knocked out of the way by a heavy weight, there was a massive bang then the smell of burnt hair and something else, pretty fucking foul.

“SHIT! SHIT SHIT.” _That was Dean’s voice?_ Cas scrambled up to see Dean holding his hand close to his body and there was blood everywhere.

“What the fuck? Gabriel! What did you do?” Cas was screaming now. The adrenaline hit him hard and pushed the alcohol aside. He stripped off his shirt not waiting for an answer from his brother and wrapped Dean’s hand in it.

“Dean, look at me. Are you ok, what happened? What’s hurt?” Cas was frantic, Dean looked white as a sheet and just kept swearing under his breath repeatedly.

Cas tried again to get Dean’s attention, lifting his chin so he was looking in his eyes. “Dean, are you ok?” It felt like such a stupid question but Cas didn’t know what else to say.

Dean blinked back at him several times, then his bottom lip began to tremble and tears started to fall. _Shit._ Cas took a step back and looked at Dean’s arm, it was bright red and blistering, some spots were even blackened. It was really messed up.

Gabe came up behind Cas, shouting something in the way of an apology and that he was getting a car so they could go to the hospital. Cas didn’t care what his brother had to say. _His_ Dean was crying and hurt and Cas was the reason why.

“I’m so sorry, Dean.” Cas said as he wiped the tears from Dean’s cheeks with his sleeve.

“S’not your fault.” Dean hiccuped. He looked lost, the alcohol and the shock hitting him hard. All Cas wanted to do was stop him from crying and make him smile again.

 

Without even thinking he leaned forward and kissed Dean square on the lips. He lingered a bit too long, then jumped back at the surprise. _He really just did that._

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Shit, i shouldn’t have done that, shit, Dean just, just forget that happened.” Cas said as he stumbled over his words.

Dean stared back at him, he didn’t look angry, just stunned. Of course his idiot of a brother chose that moment to storm back in ruining any chance of being able to talk about what just happened.

“I’ve got the car, come on let’s get you to the hospital. Dean, seriously i’m so sorry, sometimes my brain takes a vacay and, well _this_ shit happens.” Gabe looked pretty sorry, mostly for himself. 

Heart of gold and a brain full of rocks.

\----------------

Dean was pretty calm until they got to the hospital and the nurse asked him for a phone number so they could contact a family member. John was going to freak out. He begged them not to call but he was a minor and they couldn’t budge. As it was, they couldn’t get through to his home, and Dean was probably right, his father was out cold from a night of drinking.

Cas stayed with Dean while he waited to get his wound seen to, the burns were only second degree, so after being soaked in cool water the wounds were cleaned and wrapped in gauze. 

John showed up to the hospital around 3am. He was in a dark mood and swore up a storm, he was so angry about Dean drinking, and stealing his beer… If the nurses hadn’t been there to defuse the situation, Dean would have likely received a good beating right there. He didn’t once ask how Dean was, and grabbed him by the arm (his good one) after he had signed Dean out and stormed out of the hospital.

\----------------

Cas and Gabe made their way home, both looking pretty beat up and broken. Cas couldn’t get his mind off the stupid kiss. Why had he done that, it was stupid. Dean and him were just friends, best friends, but not kissing friends. _What the fuck got into him?_ He had gone and ruined everything.

He didn’t even say goodnight to Gabe when they got home, they snuck up the back stairs and he parted from his brother in the hall, and shut his door behind him. 

Cas was so stressed out he just paced his room, pulling books off the shelves and throwing them around the room when his private phone line rang.

“Hello.” He answered hesitantly. The only person who called that line was Dean, so Cas was steeling himself for the onslaught of abuse and the end of their friendship.

What actually happened had him falling to his knees beside his bed, a sob being wrenched from his throat.

“That kiss, Cas. I... I’ve wanted that for so long.”


	9. Chapter 9

The trip of a lifetime… That’s how Cas had sold it to Dean. Adventure, exotic sites, beautiful weather, Vietnam. Dean had been reluctant at first but with a little coaxing and some long nights at the library researching ( _the nerd!),_ he had come around to Cas’ idea. 

They were just out of school, the world was theirs for the taking and with the responsibility of college and with adulthood nipping at their heels, this was to be their first big moment of freedom.

Of course it had turned out to be much more adventure than smooth sailing. The first night they arrived in Hanoi, their hostel was overbooked. Travel weary and culture shocked they both had no idea what to do. Luckily the landlord took pity on them when he found them sitting outside of his building, and offered them a room at his small home, kicking his three children out of their room to make space for Cas and Dean.

On the second day while exploring the busy city, Dean got a severe sunburn. The landlord’s wife fussed over him, smearing him in clay and aloe, supposedly a tried and tested remedy for those of _fairer skin._ Dean was confined to their borrowed room for two whole days. 

The city was loud and busy and dirty. A whirlwind of crazy which Cas absolutely loved. It was exactly the right kind of controlled chaos that he craved. The place appeared so disordered on the outside, but everything worked like a well-oiled machine, aligned through centuries of daily grind. Dean seemed happy to see the local sites and do some shopping but Cas could tell he was just itching to get out into the country and to the rural school that he’d connected with while in the states.

Dean had been passionate about fundraising for the little school when he found out that the children there didn’t even have textbooks, let alone writing tools and notebooks. Dean had packed an entire spare suitcase full of everything a small school could need and every single child was now sponsored by someone in Lebanon. Dean had even set up a letter exchange with the kids at the school back home. Dean’s brother, Sam had been an integral campaigner on that point, working with the school paper to encourage interest. 

A week in the city was all Dean could take, before he was pestering Cas to purchase the bus tickets and get the hell away from the constant noise and bustle.

The bus ride was… a challenge. Eight hours in a cramped vehicle that had no right being on the road, let alone moving. With small, cracked windows and no air conditioning, the smell of gas filled the cabin, but something about it was just perfect. Cas felt in his element, animatedly trying to chat with the other passengers using comical sign language. It felt like a community of travelers, everyone shared their food around, and there were several times Dean found himself with a sleeping baby lying in his lap while a mother was taking care of another child. Twice they all had to get out and push the bus up a hill or out of mud, and yet they didn’t complain, it was all new and totally enrapturing.

When they arrived at their destination though, it was a relief to be off the rickety vehicle and on solid ground. It was approaching dusk as they alighted the bus, and the sunset lit up the sky in beautiful orange, pink and red, the silhouette of the dense forest a black contrast against the vibrant display.

There were people everywhere coming up to Cas and Dean wanting to touch their hair and hold their hands, every single one of them with smiles over their faces. Cas was overwhelmed by the reception, it felt as though the whole village had come out to greet them. Cas looked over to Dean, worried that he might be freaking out a little at the amount of people however when Dean looked back at him like his face was serene… he was in paradise.

That was true, this village was truly paradise. After experiencing the city, the village was so small, and the people who lived and worked here were poor, but the energy and happiness that surrounded them was contagious. The village was set at the edge of the jungle, the steep edge of a mountain dominating the view to one side while the dense vegetation encroached on the other.

The week they had at the village was spent working with the school. Cas marvelled as he watched Dean take charge, he watched him set up the teachers and students with their new equipment, and hand out the letters from the american students to the eager children. They were both included in lessons and spent one hilarious day trying to teach the students English (who took to it like ducks to water) and then being taught vietnamese which had the students in hysterics as they tried and failed to get their mouths around the basic foreign dialect. 

On the last day at the village all the school children took Cas and Dean to a ruined temple complex not too far into the jungle. It was a beautiful sight, the roots of the giant trees clawed at the ancient stone trying to swallow it up. Cas watched as Dean and the children clambered over the huge stones, and explore the buildings. He was just in awe of his beautiful boyfriend, who was so shy at home, now blossoming into a strong and courageous man. 

They all gathered together in front of the giant steps of the ruin to take a photo. Cas had children hanging from every limb and Dean carried three children, one on each arm and one on his back. 

The pure joy in that moment was something Castiel felt could last him a lifetime.

The next part of the trip was all Cas’ plan. He’d been able to keep it a secret from Dean for months. Cas knew that Dean was itching to find out what was next, and he was so excited to finally be able to tell him all about it.

During their time in Vietnam, they had been respectful of the conservative culture and had abstained from too much intimate time together. This trip had always been so much more than a romantic getaway. 

Cas knew that Dean wanted to use the holiday to figure out his future; school was over and they couldn’t spend the rest of their lives working odd jobs around Lebanon. The city was small, it really didn’t have many prospects for those just starting out. Dean had a goal for this trip, and after their week in the village, Cas could see that Dean was on his way to understanding his real potential. Cas didn’t think he personally needed to plan for the future, he was a _live-everyday-like-your-last_ kinda man, and he was sure the right path would show itself eventually.

At least that’s what he always told Dean. He was pretty sure Dean could tell he was hiding something, but his beautiful caring partner knew when to let sleeping dogs lie. Besides, they were young, in love and away from home for the first time together. 

This _was_ the dream, and they could work on the future tomorrow.

\----------------

When the time came to leave, it was a teary farewell, and Dean took it the hardest. He had fallen hard for the children and all the villagers, it was impossible not to. They had taken them both into their homes and lives with a warmth and kindness that Cas and Dean had never felt in their own life, except perhaps between each other.

Cas’ surprise destination was only a short distance from the village, so he rented a motorcycle to take them the rest of the way. As Dean’s curiosity rose, so did his agitation of being kept in the dark, coupled with the fact Cas could tell Dean didn’t really want to leave the village. Cas wanted to keep him in suspense, and he knew that when Dean finally saw where they were going, all would be forgiven.

They loaded up the bike and Cas took control up front with Dean riding behind him with his arms wrapped tightly around his middle. The rough roads made the journey slow but Cas felt a freedom in the ride, with his lover hugged tight to his back and the wind in his hair, it was everything he needed in this moment and more.

The state of the road was much worse the farther they traveled from the village, the track picked and wound its way along the sides of a mountain. On one side was the sheer cliff face and on the other a breakneck drop to the valley below. There were no guard rails or buffering to them from falling if they swerved off the edge. 

Cas could feel Dean tense every time they passed another vehicle coming towards them; the old fears instilled in him from his father, the tales of people who passed through the undertaking business never completely leaving his mind.

They had long since reached the pinnacle of the mountain and were halfway through the descent when Dean started to furiously slap Cas on the chest to get his attention. Cas slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road, the only thing between them and the drop was a grassy, narrow footpath.

“My hat just shot off, Cas… it’s my lucky one,” Dean said in a flustered tone. “Wait here i’m just gonna run back and get it.” he said as he took off at a run to a spot about 200 meters up the hill where his baseball cap lay in the dirt.

Cas took a moment to jump off the bike and stretch his legs. He moved over to stand behind the bike, rooting around in one of the bags for some water. 

He never even saw it coming.

The truck hurtled down the hill fast, and almost out of control. The brakes screamed, and the driver shouted warnings for the people to move. The truck could not stop. 

Before Cas knew what was happening, Dean had pulled him backwards and into his arms as the truck clipped the side of their bike and it plummeted off the road and over the edge of the mountain.

Time stood still- Cas was in shock. People gathered around them and shouted, but all he could focus on was Dean’s arms holding tight around his chest and the image of the bike going over the edge of the cliff. He slowly came back to himself, and was able to wave off the bystanders crowding in on them. He stood on wobbly legs and dusted the dirt from his pants.

When his eyes met Dean’s he saw something he’d never seen there before. 

“You could have died, Cas. That could have been us.” Dean was clearly shocked as well. He stood awkwardly like he didn’t know what to do with himself. He seemed lost, like he did the first time they kissed, and suddenly Cas never wanted Dean to feel lost ever again.

He shot forward, taking Dean into his arms. Ssh, baby, it’s ok see it’s ok. We’re good, you saved us!” Cas spoke gently into his ear as he ran his hands up and down Dean’s back “That lucky hat of yours, we’re never letting that out of our sight again.”

Dean whole body started to relax and then a laugh bubbled up out of his chest, Cas stood back holding Dean by the shoulders at arm’s length as he watched the nervous giggles take over. If there was one thing that Cas could never resist it was a laughing Dean, and he soon joined in, the two of them sat down on the ground, overcome with emotions.

\----------------

They walked the rest of the way down the mountain an arm slung around each other, their belongings forgotten for the time being, as Cas spilled the beans and told Dean all about the place they were heading to. 

Their bike was gone, which meant all they owned was what they wore, and the few items in their pockets. At least Dean had been paranoid about passports enough to wear them on a safety purse around his neck, otherwise they’d have been really screwed. 

Cas didn’t see much need to worry though, because if everything went to plan, they would have no need of clothes for the next week.

He couldn’t get enough of the excited look on Dean’s face the closer they got to their little bit of paradise. When they reached the town at the base of the mountain they hitched a ride with a young local who was only too happy to take the pair the rest of the way. They were dropped at the start of a long downhill trail, and waved their thanks and goodbyes to their ride.

Dean took off running with a shouted “Race you!” down the path at full speed.

When the trees parted Dean abruptly stopped and Cas, running fast at his heals almost collided with him. What opened up before them was a secluded cove, cliffs and trees on two sides, and the most beautiful beach to the front. There was a small wood cabin tucked into the trees just off to the side of the path and then no one anywhere in sight for miles.

“Cas. This is amazing.” Dean looked at him, his eyes huge with wonder and awe. “You did this all for us?”

“Of course, baby. A friend of Gabe’s owns the land, and I couldn’t resist. You, me and this little beach is everything we have for the next seven days.” Cas beamed. 

Dean didn’t even wait to check out the cabin, he stripped out of his clothes and ran towards the water. Cas just watched for a moment, taking his time to admire his boyfriend being carefree for once in his life.

Of course Cas didn’t wait _that_ long, the urge to join Dean in the blue waters was too great. When they came together Cas took Dean’s face in his hands and kissed him slow and deep, letting every ounce of his love bleed through his mouth and into Dean.

“What was that for?” Dean gasped as they came up for air.

“I love you so fucking much, that’s all,” Cas replied, before he dunked his head under water and hefted Dean up over his shoulder to toss him over his back.

Dean surfaced with cheeks full of water which he promptly squirted out into Cas’ face. “Ass!” He chided but there was no anger in his voice.

The pair ducked and dived and floated around for what seemed like hours, just caught up in the beauty of the place and their love for each other.

\----------------

Cas woke on the last day to Dean staring at him. He looked like a god, lying amongst the white sheets, the mosquito netting making the early sunlight cast a halo around him. His skin had darkened, making his freckles multiply in their thousands.

“Morning, sunshine.” Cas greeted. “How long you been up?” 

Dean propped himself up on one arm to lean over Cas and place a chaste kiss to his lips. “Not long, I’ve been thinking,” Cas smiled but stayed quiet, Dean would share in his own time, he could tell this was no time to tease, this seemed important.

“When we get home…” Dean paused, chewing his bottom lip. “I’m going to tell Dad I don’t want to carry on with the family business.” 

_This was huge_ , Cas sat up, the sheet sliding down his thighs, he needed to be fully awake for this. Telling Dean’s father anything he didn’t like was massive and potentially dangerous. Cas leant over to run his hand down Dean’s arms in support.

“I want to go to college, Cas. This trip, that school, the kids… it was everything i’ve ever dreamed of,” Dean look so inspired in this moment “I don’t want to work with dead people everyday, I want to teach and mold young minds, not dead skin and limbs.” Dean let out a breath like he was releasing some tension he didn’t know was even there. “He can’t stop me, I’ll move out, I want to apply to KU, I’ve got the grades maybe I can get into the fall semester?”

Cas went silent, he didn’t know what to say. Of course he wanted Dean to follow his passion, but this was happening too fast. What about the now? Living for today? What was he going to do?

_What if he got left behind._

Dean spoke up as Cas started to spiral. “Ssh, Cas, don’t... Don’t do that, I’m not gonna leave you, sweetheart. Come with me, let’s get the hell out of Lebanon like we’ve always talked about. You and me against the world, yeah?”

Cas couldn’t love anyone more in that moment, what was supposed to be a huge moment of self discovery in his boyfriend’s- his _best friend’s_ life had just become about Cas and his stupid insecurities. Of course Dean took it all in his stride, he always did. 

He didn’t deserve someone like Dean, but here he was with his very own angel.

They made love, soft and sweet, tangled in the sheets that morning with the sunlight streaming in through the open windows. Cas spelled out his passion for Dean in kisses and touch, connecting the constellations of his whole universe- a map to his happiness on his lover’s skin.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Cas walked through the door to the apartment, dropped his bag in the entry and headed straight for the fridge. Fired from another dead end job, he was ready to drink himself into oblivion and never surface again. He downed one beer before even closing the fridge, grabbed another and walked into the lounge of the small one bedroom apartment he shared with Dean near campus.

“ _Fuck_.” Cas sipped at his next beer when he saw the costumes laid out on the couch. 

_How could he forget?_

Dean had been going on about this party for months, a friend of his from college was throwing a halloween party to end all halloween parties- or so the invitation said. Dean had picked out their costumes weeks ago, buying them online because “It’s an investment, Cas.” 

It was Dean’s last year at KU, and as he was looking forward to a future as a teacher, Cas was looking back at a series of failed ambitions and lost chances. How many Gas n’ Sips can one person be fired from before they should just give up on life? 

The last thing he wanted to do was socialise, and seriously after fucking up another job, he was probably the last person Dean wanted to show off to his friends. He was a deadbeat nobody with no job and no future. About the best thing going for him was that he came from money, but he’d rather swallow razor blades than go anywhere near his mother for a handout. He was useless, no, less than useless. He may as well do Dean and Mother a favour and rid the world of his foul stain of a life.

He downed the rest of his beer as his thoughts spiraled deeper and deeper into darkness. 

Dean came home and found him 5 beers down, sitting on the floor with his back to the lounge. Cas had been banging his arm repeatedly against the hard edge of the coffee table for the last half hour just to crowd out the thoughts that had turned vicious in his mind. He was too caught up to realise Dean was standing there, and too late to cover up the spreading bruise.

“Cas! Sweetie, what is it? What happened?” Dean urged as he ran up to Cas and crouched by his side.

“Dean. Shit, I’m sorry,” His mind raced to come up with a cover for the self harm. “I fell after work, probably one too many of these.” he huffed out a laugh, and shook the empty bottle in Dean’s direction while he tried to avoid eye contact with Dean. He could tell Dean didn’t believe him, but thankfully he looked like he wasn’t going to press for more information right now.

“Got fired,” Cas said as tears suddenly welled up in his eyes. “Again.” He added with a bite of venom in his voice.

He knew what Dean was going to say; he’d said it all before. They would be fine and he could support him till he found something better. The right job was just around the corner, but he couldn’t hear that, not today. So he did what he always did when he wanted to take the pain away from Dean.

Cas lurched forward, knocking Dean to his ass, then pressed his body into the floor. His lips found Dean’s and took him in a savage kiss, all teeth and tongue, willing the pain away, willing the voices in his head to shut up and just wanting to give in to sensation.

Dean pushed Cas away slightly. He licked his lips about to say something but Cas placed his finger over them pushing softly. “No, please, Dean. I… I just need this now, please.” He begged in a whisper. Another tear escaped and fell down his cheek; Dean nodded, wrapped his arms around Cas’ neck and pulled him close to kiss him again.

Cas took Dean there on the couch with a ferocity of one who was fighting for their last breath. He couldn’t take his hands off Dean, eager to seek out every contour of his body, memorise how he felt inside and out. Their love making was primal, their bodies slick with sweat slid together in perfect synchronicity. 

Even in this crazy moment they would always be like one being.

Something deep inside Cas felt as if this would be it- this was his last chance to prove his love to the one person in his life that had ever meant anything to him. This would be the last time he could share the same breath as his best friend, because this man was perfection.

_And what does perfection want with a broken soul like me?_

\----------------

“We don’t have to go tonight, Cas. You wanna stay in, watch movies?” Dean asked as he gently wiped the hair from Cas’ face.

“Can you not do that?” Cas jerked away from his touch. “Just once, Dean, be fucking selfish. Why do you even give a shit about my day? You’ve been looking forward to this for months.” Cas yelled. He stood up to move away from Dean and knocked a bottle from the table in his haste. “Fuck! Ugh... just go and get ready, I’ll clean this shit up and be in after you.” Cas’ shoulders drooped all the fight suddenly leaving him, he slid his pants and shirt back on as he started to pick up the shards of glass. He didn’t mean to bite at Dean he just couldn’t find the right words at times like this. 

They’d fucked on the couch hard and fast, and then Dean was so kind and gentle. He didn’t deserve kind and gentle, couldn’t Dean tell? Everything just made Cas’ mood worse and it wasn’t Dean’s fault, but once again it was Dean that bore the brunt of his shitty little tantrums. 

It was as if every nice thing burnt him and _fuck it,_ it hurt like hell.

_The one person who actually puts up with your shit, Cas, and you’re pushing him away._

The inner monologue of spiteful hate filled thoughts were back. Alcohol was the only option, he had to drown it out.

\----------------

Dean came out of their room all dressed up, “Come on, Clark Kent, let’s turn you into a superhero.” Dean was dressed in a cheesy 60’s Adam West version of the Batman costume. He grabbed Cas and pulled him into the bedroom where his own Dean Cain era Superman outfit was spread out on the bed. Dean moved fluidly and stripped Cas of his ruffled suit and even lifted each arm to spray deodorant. “There... perfect, my very own Superman.” Dean said as he zipped up the costume, and tied the cape in place.

“Tonight the man of steel and the dark knight will fight sobriety united as one!” Dean said, holding one arm high, fist clenched, the other pulled Cas close to him. Dean couldn’t keep his face straight for long though and ended up giggling like a little kid. 

Cas just shrugged him off, throwing Dean the keys to his car and grabbed a case of beer on his way to the door. “We doing this or what?” He said, even as he winced at his own tone.

\----------------

At the party Dean was stopped just inside the door by the host, Cas didn’t bother to wait, and moved through the big crowd to find the bar. He started on a weird blue cocktail the guy at the makeshift bar called a _Blue Balls Blaster._ Cas didn’t really give a shit, it was strong and that was all that mattered.

It was a few hours later when he finally found Dean again or rather Dean found him, since he’d been actively trying to hide. He didn’t want to ruin Dean’s night anymore than he already had.

He was wasted and swayed unsteady on his feet when Dean walked up to him. 

_Why are there are two Dean’s? Two Dean’s that hate his sorry ass. Great!_

“Cas! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Dean seemed relieved to see him.

“Mus’nt been try’n tha hard.” Cas slurred. “Been ‘ere the whole time.” Cas bit back as he swung his arm in an exaggerated arch to display the wall he’d been holding up.

“Jesus, you’re smashed. Come on, Cas, let’s get you home.” Dean said with mild concern.

_Why is he being nice? He doesn’t want to take you home cause he cares, he’s embarrassed of your sorry ass that’s why._

“Don’t worry, Dean, I get the message.” Cas pushed away Dean’s supportive arm “I’ll leave, I’ll leave and you stay. Get the drunken embarrassment out of your way, yeah.” Cas started to sway, and used the momentum to get into Dean’s face, “and and don’t worry about coming home, I’ll be out of your hair before you get there!” 

Dean just stared at Cas in shock. “Cas, what are you talking about? I’m worried about you, ok? I’m going to go get the car,” Dean grabbed the keys from his pocket and half presented them to Cas. “Look, you come out the front and get some air while you wait. Come on.” Dean said as he walked Cas out to the front porch, supporting his weight with a grip around his shoulders. 

It had started raining at some point in the night and now it came down in sheets, the gutters were already filled like small rivers. Cas watched as Dean walked down the road to where he’d parked. He swayed for a moment before his legs crumpled under him and he landed on the wet grass.

_Fuck, he **does** care. You’re such a fucking disaster and you’re bringing him down with you. That’s what you’re doing, you’re so awful that you kill everything you touch. Look what he could have without you, just look at these people, they have a future. Look at you, yeah, nothing... less than nothing._

“Cas, sweetie, come on- get up now, I got the car, come on, sweetheart, you're sitting in the rain, let’s get you home.” Dean had his arms out as he tried to get him up from where he’d collapsed in the front garden. 

_Nothing but gutter trash. Look at your sorry ass, fucking sitting in the rain. Nothing but dirt. Nothing but poison. You fucked up, good for nothing, mother fucking waste of oxygen. Sucking the life out of him. LOOK! Look at him, you ruin everything!_

Cas suddenly jumped up. “No Dean! No more bullshit. I’m poison!” Cas screamed, tears joining the rain in streaming down his face, endlessly dripping down his body, making his costume cling to his skin. He kept yelling, “I’m killing you with my shit. NO MORE! I’m sorry, Dean, I don’t deserve you!” 

Dean tried to hold Cas, keep him close, but Cas shoved hard back then struck out with his fist- punching Dean in the nose. 

Blood started to pour out immediately. Cas looked down, there was blood on his hand... Dean’s blood.

_See what you do. You did that, you hurt him._

Cas had to run, at first he didn’t know where, but then he saw Dean’s car. The keys were in the ignition, he jumped in and slammed the door shit. He turned the keys and pushed down hard on the gas. He had no idea where he was going, he was sobbing so hard he could barely see, and the noises coming from him were pathetic.

He drove too fast, he knew that, and the rain was so heavy. He hadn’t turned on the windscreen wipers, he just kept his foot down and drove. The lights were shining off the road like lasers, dancing in the rain like a mirage.

Through the rain he saw it, a tree, like the one back home. Their tree.

_Go on, it won’t hurt, just drive._

He put his foot to the floor, locked his arms on the wheel and drove straight.

He didn’t hear the crash. 

He didn’t hear anything for four days.

\----------------

When he woke he was in a hospital bed, Dean was asleep in the chair next to him. He hurt, he hurt a lot, everywhere. 

There was an investigation, and then court, of course. He was under the influence and lucky to be alive. 

Just another notch in his long list of failures. 

_You can’t even kill yourself properly._

 


	11. Chapter 11

It had been almost four years to the day since the night of the crash. Dean was working at a small primary school for children with learning disabilities in Lawrence, Kansas. They rented a house near the river, an old building with charm and history in its bones, something that Dean loved. 

After the crash his mother had gotten involved and insisted he spend time in a private psychiatric facility. She was sure that Cas had a drinking problem and needed to “dry out”. 

His time in recovery had led him into Yoga, and Cas had started a new career that flourished at first, aiding his mental well-being. Instructing others brought in some income, but nowhere near the steady amount that Dean’s job did. . 

He’d been able to hide the truth of the crash from everyone… everyone but Dean. Dean had been heartbroken, but completely supported his recovery. As much as he hated to admit it, the stay in hospital had been beneficial, and for a while at least, life had gotten back on track.

Cas taught classes to stay at home mothers and retired people at the local hall. As much as he tried, he couldn’t get away from the feelings of drudgery and banality. To watch other people's lives flourish, people move on, and move up, advance in careers, and grow families of their own… it ate away at his soul.

He didn’t want what others had, really, there was no way he’d be responsible enough to have a family, and that was the kicker. Dean did want to have a family, and as time went by it became more obvious. It was small things at first, the way Dean would coo over friends babies, then offering to babysit at any opportunity. The way Dean would look to Cas when he was holding a child, then glance at Cas with a look that said, “We could do this… you and I,” and when Cas forced a smile, Dean would just nod, the defeat almost imperceptible.

Dean would come home with stories about the children he worked with, and his eyes shining as he described how a favourite of his had overcome a learning hurdle. Cas would nod along, happy for Dean. Cas found websites for foster carers and adoption agencies in the browser history of their computer. But every time Dean would chance to bring up children, Cas couldn’t even look at him. He would change the subject or leave the room abruptly, anything to get away from seeing the look on Dean’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment. 

There was no way he could understand Dean’s desire to bring a child into their relationship, not with him around to ruin everything. Cas would only poison the child like his mother had done to him.

His thoughts had been getting increasingly darker. As the winter set in, his hours at work shortened, and the casual yoga crowd were less inclined to show up - to shed their layers, only to have to heft them back on in an hour. Only the hardcore participants committed to continue. The hours between short work shifts dragged on, and more often than not Cas would spend the time alone in their large home, with nothing but his thoughts for company. The usual joy he’d get from things like reading or binge-watching Netflix, were stripped from him. Even at night with Dean sleeping beside him, a warm heavy comfort at his back could not keep those painful thoughts from his mind.

For Cas the deep dark night never ended. 

\----------------

The sky was grey, the thick cover of clouds blocked out the weak winter sun. It would likely snow tonight. The wind whipped at Cas as he tugged his scarf closer around his neck, shifting it up to cover his ears. His day had finished early and he was walking back to their empty home. 

He hadn’t been able to shrug off the dark cloud of despair that had been gradually building over the past few months. It was consuming him, taking over his thoughts and drudging up every one of his past failings.

The front door resisted his efforts to open it, Cas had to heft his shoulder to budge the swollen wood from the frame. Inside the place it seemed unnaturally dark, the curtains still drawn from the night before, and the heat had not kicked in yet so that the chill of the day outside only seemed to magnify in the big house.

Cas shivered, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn on the heat.

_You don’t deserve to be warm._

He listed through the house, drifting from one room to the next trying to land on something or somewhere that would settle the storm that brewed inside of him. At the entrance to their bedroom he stopped.

The passion was gone from the room, all that was left were rumpled sheets and piles of clothes. He tried to think of the last time they had come together with any desire. They never had sex anymore, Cas just couldn’t bring himself to touch Dean. He didn’t deserve to touch him. Even when Dean tried to cuddle at night, or wrap his arms around him in the evenings in front of the tv, Cas always shrugged him off with the minimal amount of contact.

_Everything you touch turns to dust. Poison, you're poison._

The walls of the bedroom seemed to leer at him, stifling him, cornering him.

_I need to get out. No... I need to leave._

Cas couldn’t bring himself to go outside again. He was gripped with sudden fear, one step out the front door and he may drift off and never find his way home again. He couldn’t leave, not on his own.

_Who would go with you anyway? You’re pathetic, you know that right? Pathetic man child can’t even leave the house._

They hadn’t gone out as a couple in weeks, this crippling fear of leaving had become a trap for Cas. He was only barely making it to work. Dean came home every day to cook dinner and clean up the apartment. He would get lunch prepared for them both for the next day, and then they would sit in awkward silence together in front of the TV. Dean’s life had become nothing more than a glorified maid service for Cas. He didn’t complain. 

_He doesn’t want to do that for you, he’s just waiting for you to leave. Why don’t you just leave?_

When had things gotten so bad? Cas would listen to Dean as he’d tell him about his day, as he encouraged Cas to talk, gentle with him as ever. Dean knew things were going downhill, so he kept making appointments for Cas to see his doctor, to go back on his meds, but all of that was just too much. He was beyond fixing now.

_You know how you could fix this. You know how to fix it all._

He’d begun pacing the house again, the hours slipping away. He walked from the bathroom to the kitchen, through the lounge and back again. He would stop and break down, his knees giving out on him as he was wracked with sobs. Then his whole body would betray him, shaking beyond his control, taking his mind with it. The tremors made his thoughts all mashed up and incoherent in their unrelenting destruction of his sanity.

He’d regain his legs and the cycle would continue. He opened drawers and cupboards in a crazed frenzy. Searching for something to shut up his thoughts. Something to save him from himself. 

_You know you want to, look at what you’re doing. LOOK._

Clarity and calm washed over his over stimulated body and mind. Cas found himself stood in the kitchen, a short filleting knife in his hand.

_You don’t deserve this life. You don’t deserve Dean, you don’t even deserve your own family. They’d be better off without you._

The moments moved, coming and going like the flashes of a camera shutter. He stood over the bath, the peace settling through him. He leant forward to turn on the hot water, and watched as the tub filled.

_One last luxury. It will be nice to lay in the warm. It won’t hurt too much, no more than you deserve._

Cas walked back out to the lounge and sat down with pen and paper.

_Dean_

_You were my everything._

_I’m sorry I couldn’t stay with you._

_You have always deserved better, and now, my love, you can have that._

_Promise me you will have a good life,_

_Make a family, one that is worthy of your love._

_I love you, baby._

_Forever_

_Cas_

He set the letter on the kitchen counter then walked back to the bath, the water had reached the top, and was just on the scalding side of hot. He shut off the tap.

_Perfect, better feel what hell will be like. Get used to it’ ‘cause that’s where you’ll be going._

He stripped down, about to step into the tub when he remembered something. Back in his bedroom he riffled through the drawers until he found what he was looking for. An old wooden box. He took it to the kitchen where he opened it; he ran his fingers over the silver watch inside.

Taking it out he handled it reverently. Like he’d done a million times before, he turned the watch over and ran the pad of his thumb over the inscription.

_A life lived in fear is a life half lived._

He left the watch sitting on top of his note.

\----------------

The blood was coming out fast, faster than he’d expected. He’d only cut one wrist; a small hesitant cut was quickly covered by a deep angry gouge. 

It scared Cas a little, how quick it would happen. 

_Not long now._

_Dean!_

One thought entered his mind, which was now thankfully so quiet. A deep calm had come over him, he was finally relaxed.

Cas fumbled with the phone, his hands were uncoordinated and he struggled to keep his head up as he dialed the familiar number, just one last time, he wanted just one last time.

The phone rang. “Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

\----------------

Dean was walking across the playground rounding up the last of the stragglers from the lunch break when his phone rang. Cas’ smiling face popped up on the display in his hand.

“Hey, Cas.” He tried to sound upbeat, it had been getting harder these days. Dean knew Cas was suffering again, he just hoped that he would be able to catch him before he fell.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas’ voice came across the line, distant and faint. 

“Cas, you ok? What’s happening?” Cas sounded off. Dean felt the intensity of alarm flash through him. “You need me to come home, sweetheart?” He was suddenly on high alert. 

“I just wanted to say I love you, I… I’m sorry, baby... Goodbye.” Cas slurred his words into the phone, and then the line went quiet.

Dean froze on the spot, “Cas! No, Cas, Sweetheart, no! You hang on. Don’t you say that ,don’t you dare! I’m coming home, I’m…” He yelled into the phone, but he was already cut off by the dial tone.

He started sprinting. They lived close to the school, close enough that Dean didn’t need to drive. While he ran, he called an ambulance, then tried desperately to get back through to Cas’ phone in vain.

He broke into the home while screaming out Cas’ name, his eyes darted everywhere. The house was freezing, he could see the cloud of mist coming from his mouth as he shouted. 

Dean darted up the stairs, where he saw the light from under the bathroom door and ran towards it.

“Cas, open up! It’s me, please- I’m here, please!” Dean yelled as he scrabbled at the handle of the bathroom door. 

Cas had locked himself in. 

Dean threw his shoulder into the door with all his weight. It took several goes before he tumbled in. As he tried to grasp his bearings, he couldn’t work out where to look first.

There was so much blood everywhere. The walls and floor were red, the water too and Cas… he was lying there. So white.

“Cas, no, sweetheart no, you can’t.”

Dean sobbed as he pulled Cas from the water, his body fell on top of him and he slipped and fell onto the floor. He screamed for Cas to wake up. He pummeled at his chest willing him to open his eyes. Distantly he could hear the ambulance crew calling out and coming in the open door.

Dean couldn’t move, he pulled Cas into his arms rocking with his body as his tears fell onto Cas. 

And his whole world fell away.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Melody Gardot - Once I was Loved](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nm0OsVJ9U34)

Dean stood under the shade of a massive oak tree, watching the funeral from afar. The hearse was parked behind him and he leaned against the black hood, dressed in his best three-piece undertaker suit and hat, saved only for the more lavish funerals. He had known from the first meeting with Naomi Novak that she would be expecting nothing but the best.

He was supremely uncomfortable and hot, the sweat trickled down his back. It wasn’t just the scratchy fabric and the unrelenting heat that made him uncomfortable, he felt as though the seams of his soul had been ripped apart and put back together. Try as he might he could not recall the events leading up to him standing here. The last thing he remembered was weeping over Castiel’s body; for which he was somewhat ashamed of. However what was stranger was the fact he wasn’t at all worried.

_Temporary memory loss? No problem?_

There was an undercurrent of electricity that coursed steadily just under his skin, it thrummed in time with his heart, slow, steady, and ever present. It was accompanied by a thirst like nothing he’d felt before, except it wasn’t something water could quench.

Dean fidgeted, unable to find comfort in any way. He looked back over to the funeral where the mahogany casket was being moved into the family crypt. A choir was singing a song he thought he knew but couldn’t quite place. The ceremony was large, but the gathering was small. For someone who had appeared to Dean, so full of life, his death now seemed so empty. Only his family was in attendance, the priest and the choir outnumbered the family significantly.

None of the funeral party were paying him any attention, so he slowly removed his hat, and peeled off his jacket. He unbuttoned the vest and folded it over on the hood of the car along with the other items. He rolled up his sleeves of his shirt as he relished in the soft breeze that was finally able to get to his sweaty heated skin.

As he let out a deep sigh, Dean leaned back onto the car and looked up to the sky, covered with a scattering of white fluffy clouds. A bird- black as night and with the most beautiful wings Dean had ever seen- flew over his head. It roosted in the high branches of the oak tree he stood beneath.

As the wind picked up and he watched the bird jump around the branches pecking at bugs and leaves, the most peculiar urge came over him. The desire started as a small tickle in his stomach which added a new depth to the constant thrum under his skin. It grew there until Dean was unable to ignore it any longer.

Dean moved closer to the trunk of the great oak tree, he ran his hand over the bark reverently and felt the scratch and rough drag through his fingers. The words of Castiel’s young ghost came back to him, almost beckoning him silently from the beyond. “ _Once you get up to the first branch it’s easy,”_ Dean lifted his arms up to the closest branch and with one last look to check that no one was watching him, he swung himself up into the tree. 

\----------------

_Three months later_

“Dean! Come on, man. Aren’t you ready yet?” 

Sam was standing at the front door of the old house that used to be their home. A large ‘For Sale’ sign was planted in the yard with a proud Sold sticker stuck over it on an angle. 

The night of Castiel’s funeral, Dean had come back to the funeral home, the impulse and electricity still coursed through his veins. He’d rattled around his home, suddenly too vast and too empty. He stood down in the basement mortuary and felt no desire to continue working there. 

Dean saw clearly now; his father’s ghostly visage standing near the embalming machine, his father was everywhere he looked, and he knew now that he- himself- was nowhere to be found. Dean was just a vessel for his father’s desires. 

_Not anymore!_

He’d ended up in his office, where the photo of Castiel still lay on his desk. He ran his fingers over the image as the decision settled over him. 

Sam had been surprised to hear from his brother, but instantly recognised the change that had overcome Dean. Sam was only too happy to help with the plans that Dean was rapidly firing out to his brother over the phone. When Dean had finished they sat in silence together for a moment before Sam spoke. “I’m proud of you, Dean.”

The business had sold quicker than they had expected. It turned out that Ash had been taking the required study to aid Dean further in the mortuary and been able to find a business partner- a burly man with a thick Louisiana accent- who wanted to set up shop in a small city like Lebanon.

Dean had packed up the few belongings he really cherished, and sold the rest along with the house to Ash. He booked a one way ticket to Vietnam next, after which he found a school in dire need of sponsorship and basic supplies. 

He was about to go on the adventure of a lifetime.

\----------------

Sam arrived in time to help with the finalities of the sale, and the day had come to leave this part of their history behind them, together, as a family.

As Dean hurried out of the house with the last box, he took a moment to turn around and take in the place that had been in the Winchester family for so long. Sam startled him slightly when he came up and clapped an arm around his shoulders. Dean was _doing it,_ he had broken from his father’s grasp, and was standing on his own two feet for the first time in his life. But he wasn’t alone, he had his brother, and somewhere deep inside him he knew that he carried someone else with him too. 

Castiel’s picture was securely stored in the fold of his wallet. 

_His guardian angel._

For the first time in his life he felt free, and he had the story of a dead man to thank for it.

Later in life Dean would remember the story of his angel, and his moment in that tree, watching the funeral of a man he had not known but felt so bound to in life; perhaps he’d tell the story of how it was in that moment he decided to live.


End file.
